


The Simp Chronicles

by Hakyeonsmelanin



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: A mess luv, Age Difference, Bisexuality, Coming of Age, Crack Relationships, DOnt be fooled the reader fucks everyone, F/F, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, One-Sided Attraction, Pegging, Recreational Drug Use, The reader is a female Eren but a complete nymphomanaic, Unrequited Crush, reader is a simp, soundcloud rappers - Freeform, this is pretty much pure crack, zero fuckin plotline ayyy lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 74,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24120664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hakyeonsmelanin/pseuds/Hakyeonsmelanin
Summary: An inexplicable feeling of anger had overtaken you. The titans, hulking and cruel, had deprived you of foreign, exotic sexual encounters.  They were the reason you were trapped in between these cold stone walls. They had resigned you to a life of fucking the same people over and over and over again! The same old dick. The same old balls. In that moment, you had learned your destiny:To wipe all titans off of the face of this Earth.OrIn which the reader joins the Scouts, purely so she can have sex with people from beyond the walls.
Relationships: Annie Leonhart/Reader, Armin Arlert/Reader, Bertolt Hoover/Reader, Connie Springer/Reader, Eren Yeager/Reader, Erwin Smith/Reader, Jean Kirstein/Reader, Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)/Reader, Mikasa Ackerman/Reader, Reiner Braun/Reader, Sasha Blouse/Reader
Comments: 208
Kudos: 294





	1. The beginning of this shitshow

**Author's Note:**

> Hi y’all 🥺 itsa me hakyeonmelanin ! Anyways, this fic is something I churned out at 2 in morning so if it’s shit then blame it on the sleep deprivation mwah xoxoxoxo 
> 
> Also,,, here’s a shameless promo: I have a Levi x reader fic called widow which is the complete opposite of this shitshow so feel free to check it out if you’re in the mood for some angst and emotional constipation 👁👄👁
> 
> Leave comments and kudos or else I’ll cry

  
You had always hated the walls.  


  
Something in you doubted that fifty metres of cold, dark stone could truly shield mankind from the evils of the Earth. As a child you had tried to look beyond them, tried to watch the sun set in all of its glory, and failed because all that stood in the sky was grey grey _grey_.  


  
Yes, you had always hated the walls. It wasn’t until you lost your virginity that you learned the extent of their terrible, oppressive nature.  


  
” _There must be so much dick beyond them!_ ” You wailed, clutching your head and shaking it like a deranged lab rat on steroids.  


  
” _You’re insane. All of mankind were wiped out when the titans—hold up, are you crying?_ “ Your childhood best friend gaped in disbelief, wrinkling her nose in disgust at the heavy tears streaming down your cheeks. Fuck, you had such an ugly crying face.  


  
“ _Do you blame me? Think about it, bitch, once I’ve fucked my way through everyone living in the walls, what am I gonna do then? I’m already one guy down!_ ”  


  
“ _Why would you fuck everyone living in the walls? How would you even fuck everyone living in the walls? You know what, don’t answer. I’m sure you’ll find a way._ ” The pathetic virgin rolled her eyes, clearly uneducated on such important, pressing matters.  


  
You didn’t get any sleep that night.  


  
In fact, it wasn’t until the Scout Regiment returned from their latest flop of an expedition, all bloody and defeated and absolutely _fucking hot_ that all your sleepless nights would be cured.  


  
Maybe, there were a few lost limbs and a plethora of freakish looking scarring but overall, they were pretty bangable. They were strong and muscular and proud—even after taking the ass whooping of the century, with some soldiers discussing their plans for the next expedition. If there was one thing that got fifteen year old you’s panties wet, it was someone who never learned their lesson.  


  
There was such a diverse variety of hotties, so many delectable asses that were ripe for the picking. Ass ass ass, everywhere you looked there was a fat ass waiting for you. You’ll never forget how your bestie had to hold you in place, just so you wouldn’t run home and pull out your mom’s twenty-four piece cutlery set in an attempt to eat them all in the streets.  


  
“ _And the best part of it, is that they’d all be dead by next month! No strings attached at all!_ ” You squealed, clapping your hands together as all thirsty bitches do in the presence of moderately good looking people.  


  
“ _Nympho._ ”  


  
Then, you had seen him.  


  
His eyes were grey, sharp and hardened by war; his hair was dark as night and his skin was as pale as a jizz stain on a cum sock. Goddamn, you had fallen in love. Okay, maybe not. He was kind of short and even back then, you were a size queen.  


  
An inexplicable feeling of anger had overtaken you. The titans, hulking and cruel, had deprived you of foreign, exotic sexual encounters. They were the reason you were trapped in between these cold stone walls. They had resigned you to a life of fucking the same people over and over and over again! The same old dick. The same old balls. In that moment, you had learned your destiny:  


  
To wipe all titans off of the face of this Earth.  


  
You had enlisted the week after, telling your mother that you had a fate to fulfil.  


  
“ _Good riddance, you fucking failed coat-hanger abortion!_ ” She flipped you off as you waved sweetly, wiping a tear from your eyes. Oh, how you’d miss her.  


  
Come to think of it, your best friend didn’t care all that much either. She didn’t even come to see you off when you hopped the wagon, claiming she had better things to do than stick around for a horny, no-good loser like you. But none of that mattered. All that was important was the bountiful feast of ass you were going to dig into once you became an enlistee.  


  
The entrance procedure was pretty standard. As in all fanfictions you, the main character, are —and were in your early teens, too—unbelievably fucking hot without so much as an acne mark on your face or hair on your ass crack. You were completely tired out from all the quickies you had on the way to the barracks. People were so horny these days, soliciting you non-stop!  


  
There were hundred, thousands maybe, of teenagers your age. Most of them were crusty. Some of them had kind faces and nervous, trembling eyes but you didn’t care—no, not at all! After all, all that mattered was what was in someone’s pants. Not their heart or mind!

  
You scanned the crowd, looking for equally shameless simps before landing on a freakishly tall guy who seemed to have shy, quiet disposition and a homoerotic attachment to the blond guy next to him. God, he was _so_ tall. Even then, you wanted to climb Bertie like a tree.  


  
“ _You stupid bitch! What the hell are you looking at? Cadet, what is your name?_ ” The old fuck screamed in your face. Ew, his breath stunk like hot ass. You wondered, momentarily, if the Scout Regiment had a dental plan in place for its employees.  


  
“ _[Y/N] [L/F], Sir!_ ”  


  
“ _And what, in God’s name does a scraggly little shit like you have to offer the army? Why. Are. You. Here. Cadet?_ ” He punctuated each word with an even stronger gust of his hot ass breath and your vision blurred, head spinning fully and arms drooping lazily.  


  
“ _To wipe out all titans so I can fuck as many people as I can, Sir!”_  


__

  
The crowd stilled. You looked up at the tall, bald, somewhat mentally unhinged man towering above you and saw the ‘say sike right now’ shining in his sunken eyes. You simply nodded in confirmation, jaw tight with conviction.  


__

  
Later that evening, as you hauled your fat ass around the training grounds for five hours straight, you hadn’t known that it was the beginning of something beautiful.  


__

  
Soon, you were to become the most prestigious whore in the regiment.  


__

~

  
It’s not to say you’re a bad soldier. No, you’re older and wiser. You have control over your body, incredible work ethic and have dedicated yourself to mastering the art of kicking someone’s face so hard that their left nut implodes.  


  
You’re a fairly good soldier, although painfully mediocre. You train hard, you train with tenacity and vigour, because if anyone is going to find new dick to suck outside of the walls, it’s going to be you.  


  
Still, it doesn’t bother you in the way it used to. Your talents lie in other areas.  


  
”I think I’m in love with you.” Sasha whines dreamily, a piece of bread already in her fat gob as she comes down from the high of her orgasm.  


  
“Shut up.” You pull your panties up, rolling your eyes at the little brown crumbs on your thighs. Did this bitch seriously stuff her face during your pre-scheduled weekly scissor time?  


  
”—Do you always have to have something in your mouth?” You ask, stretching out your limbs and peeping through the door to check if this coast is clear.  


  
The last time you had gotten caught having a quickie, you were put on latrine duty and subjected to an extensive STI check. There wasn’t a chance in Hell that you were going back to that life.  


  
“You weren’t complaining ten minutes ago.” She pouts, stupidly. God, how can Connie stand to be near this obese bitch for more than two minutes at a time?  


  
”You got me there.” She smiles self-assuredly at your words in a way that makes you want to snitch on yourself, purely so she ends up on latrine duty with you.  


  
The coast seems clear enough. That horse-faced simp Jean is loitering around but all you’ll have to do is offer him a sketch of your tits to pay him off if he catches you. Which he won’t, because you’re practically a professional at this. The speediest bitch around.  


  
”Okay, honey boo-boo, are you ready to run?”  


  
”Who’s that?” She asks, voice muffled by the raw carrot lodged down her throat.  


  
”How the hell should I know? Now, you ready to run or what?”  


  
She whines once more about you making strange pop culture references to things that nobody understands and tells you they aren’t relevant to the canonical time period of this fictional universe. You call her a simpleton.  


  
”Ha. Jokes on you, I don’t even know what that means!”  


  
You run across the courtyard, legs aching from the contortionist level positions that that stupid hick Sasha made you get in and pray to whatever deity is listening that Jean’s fugly ass does not see you. Crap, you swear you’re gonna be limping for days.  


  
The wind sweeps behind you as you make your epic sprint, hair rolling wildly against the breeze and your lips curve determinedly when you see that you’ve almost made it.  


  
_So...close..._  


  
”Well well well , if it isn’t chlamydia in a wig,” you hear a neigh from behind you. “—What would you be doing here? Nothing scandalous I hope?”  


  
_Oh, balls._  


  
Jean smirks in a way that he must presume looks cool. You wonder just how hard his alcoholic father beat him in order for him to be so ugly and deformed.  


  
”What’s it to you, Jeanie?” You cock a brow, lazily. At this point, you don’t know what the fuck happened to Sasha. She’s probably still eating in the same spot as before. Some people just aren’t made for the thrilling life of crime that you lead.  


  
”Oh, well. You know me. I’d hate to see any...rules broken. That’s all. I’m just protecting the code of conduct.” He clasps his ugly, sausage fingers together and you refrain from grimacing.  


  
”Yeah, well, you are a kiss-ass like that. Where’s your boyfriend?” You inquire lazily.  


  
“Marco’s not my boyfriend!” He hisses as soon as the words escape his mouth and you let out a slightly frightening, high pitched laugh.  


  
The resident lesbians, Ymir and Christa shoot you some funny looks before creeping over to the same spot that you had just escaped from.  


  
”How are you ugly _and_ dumb? Pick a struggle, Jeanie, you can’t have both.” You cackle louder, vaguely resembling an epileptic sheep on an acid trip.  


  
”I’m not ugly, you stinky bitch!”  


  
”Ooh, did Marco tell you that?”  


  
He grits his teeth, a red-hot mixture of being mentally deficient and embarrassed flashing on his cheeks. At last, he decides to show you some semblance of mercy and cuts to the chase.  


  
”Whatever. Just pay up or else Shadis is gonna have your ass scraping out the gutter again.” He bulges his oogly boogly eyes as though to mimic your beloved Keith-kun. You scowl.  


  
Momentarily, you consider kicking him in the teeth but the singular braincell you possess tells you that it would constitute as animal abuse. Besides, his bitch ass would probably come back with a fiery vengeance and increase the level of payment, in the event that he catches you again. You’ll be damned if you _ever_ give Jean-boy a blowie.  


  
”Here.” You scramble through your pockets, searching for the worst titty sketch you can find in your emergency nude supply (you never know when it might come in handy) and pass it over to the horsey cunt.  


  
”Pleasure doing business with you.” He folds it up neatly and places it in his pocket.  


  
You don’t answer, disappointed in yourself for negotiating with a terrorist.  



	2. The Eren Yaeger Saga: part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy howdy 🤠🤠I’m back with another disaster of a chapter ! Thanks to the peeps who read, commented and left kudos :D
> 
> If there’s anything y’all want to see or if you have any situations you want to see the reader in then feel free to comment because this fic is pretty much going to be a series of mishaps

  
”I will _decimate_ the Titans! I will hunt them to extinction, I will bathe them in their own blood, I will subjugate them with my sword, I will—“  
You land sharp kick on your opponent’s shin but she’s quick to recover. 

  
”Isn’t that Eren’s thing? I’m sure this constitutes as plagiarism.”  


  
You grit your teeth tightly. That useless lesbian, Ymir, can’t seem to go more than a minute without trying to humiliate you. Ha. An urge to laugh in her stupid freckled face tickles at your gut. As if you, the CEO of social embarrassment, aren’t good enough at it all by yourself.  


  
Instead, you swing at her again but her reflexes are nimble and sturdy. She dodges you smoothly, knuckles brushing your jaw.  


  
”Fuck Yeager lives! It was my thing before it was his. If anything, he plagiarised it from _me_!”

  
”Okay, but are you deserving of the maniacal anti-Titan agenda?” She asks cooly, gripping you by the shoulder and spinning you around. That butch bitch is so good at throwing you off.  


  
_Oh my God, this what the potatoes in Sasha’s gut must feel like_ , you lament as the taller girl rotates you in a perfect circle.  


  
”You don’t know what they’ve deprived me of, Ymir!”  


  
”They deprived Eren of an mother when they ate her alive in front of his tender, twelve year old eyes, you dumb rat,” She hisses when you twist her nipple out of pure spite. “— _You’re_ only here because you want to get dicked down!”  


  
”Aren’t you here because you stalked Christa? You literally enlisted because you wanted some cooch.”  


  
Ymir, in typical Ymir fashion, pummels the living fuck of out you and you let her because _Wow_ , you have never seen anyone as flat chested as her. How it’s even biologically possible is beyond you. You study her pathetic chest as she cracks down on your head with the strength of Mikasa on medical grade steroids, trying to understand the meaning behind it’s lack of dimension.

  
_Good thing she’s a lesbian. I can’t even imagine the pain her kids would feel if they had breastfeed from those mosquito bites._  


  
“This is beginning to feel like a hate crime...” You tell her, through what you’re sure is a mouth full of blood and your own tears.  


  
_I think I just pissed myself._  


  
”That’s because it is.” Is all the big bitch says before the whistle blows and hand-to-hand combat practise is ceased for the day.  


~

  
If life was an iconic teen chick-flick like Mean Girls, Eren Yaeger’s gang would undoubtably be the plastics. Mikasa would be Regina George, a stupid, hot bitch who needs to get hit by a bus. Armin would be the Gretchen Weiner, intelligent but a complete waste of oxygen and Eren...Eren would be the dumbass who could predict the weather with her boobs.  


  
Not that it matters because you don’t even know what _Mean Girls_ is. Or a bus.  


It doesn’t stop you from fantasising about them though. Eren is, by all means and definitions, _fuckable_. If it wasn’t for his raging mental instability (and the threat of Mikasa fisting your ass and knocking your teeth out from the back), you would have definitely have added him to your body count by now.  


  
Damn. Life is tough. You’ve got a black eye, a split lip _and_ dry panties.  


  
“Why so glum, chum?” Christa asks you, watching curiously as you nurse the swelling of your eyelid.  


  
The blonde smiles at you so brightly that you feel your heart skip a beat. How was the literal second coming of Christ allowed to enlist in this _shithole_ excuse for a military?  


  
”Ask your girlfriend. She assaulted me.” You pout sadly, purely for sympathy points and Christa—being the precious egg she is— inspects it with careful, tender fingers.  


  
”It was practise, pussy. You should’ve fought back when you had the chance.” You groan loudly as Christa pulls away.  


  
Of course, that overgrown bitch is here. You should’ve that known she’d show up and cockblock you. God, Ymir’s so far up Christa’s ass, you’re surprised she isn’t covered in her shit.  


  
”Ymir!” Christa reprimands weakly. Ymir only shoots her a sweet smile and you restrain the urge to wretch.  


  
”I miss when gays lived in fear and didn’t have any rights... _oh,_ the good old days!” You swoon dreamily and she shoots you a scowl.  


  
”Homophobia isn’t cute.” She clicks her tongue before wrapping an arm around the petite blonde next to her.  


  
”Neither is a black eye, you fuckwit.”  


  
Now, by no means are you homophobic. In fact, you love that society is progressing and people are finally able to accept themselves, as well as each other. But, what you _don’t_ love is being beaten to point of peeing out enough urine to feed Bear Grylls for a week.  


  
_Who?_ You ask yourself, dully.  


  
”Come on guys, we’re all friends here.”  
Christa tries with a smile and it’s enough to pacify you and Ymir, who settles for one last grimace at you.  


  
It’s strange because she’s right and the three of you truly _are_ friends. You eat lunch with the girls often and although you’re not particularly social by nature, you spend a majority of your time with them. Bickering. Complaining. Having physical fights. Trying to convince them that they need a third partner and polygamy is a hottest trend on the streets. Taking votes on throwing Ymir over the wall as a scientific experiment. The list goes on.  


  
”Yeah, sure,” Ymir tries to contain the sneer in her voice but fails miserably as she has with everything else in her Godforsaken existence. “—But, what’s got you so upset, [L/N]? Having withdrawals again?”  


  
You huff melodramatically and Christa puts a comforting hand on your own. All it takes is one look from Ymir and weirdly enough, you can hear the violent series of threats that she’s currently biting back, purely through the rage in her eyes.  


  
_You disgusting, loose-pussy sewer rat! Take your hand away from my princess if you want to make it out of this canteen alive. Or maybe I’ll just wait until you’re asleep and vulnerable—_  


  
_Okay! Shit, don’t need to tell me twice._  


  
You pull your hand away from Christa as though she’s a rabid dog and watch her blink in confusion. Wow, their relationship is incredibly unhealthy. Ymir’s so controlling. You’d never control Christa if _you_ were the one dating her—  


  
”I think so. I haven’t had any since Sasha, two weeks ago.” You sigh forlornly and Christa looks as though she’s about to tear up from the tragedy of your tale.  


  
”That’s awful—“ She begins, like the sweet Goddess she is and you can’t help but think that if she was Titan, you’d jump right into her mouth.  


  
”Why are you such a slut?” Ymir asks simultaneously and you roll your eyes. Christa frowns and you consider asking them if they’ve tried relationship counselling.  


  
_Relationship counselling? They can’t be the only toxic couple here, right? Maybe I should try to get into it, make some money on the side...  
_

  
”I prefer the term sexually liberated.”  


  
”I prefer the term genital herpes.”  


  
”Okay,” Christa cuts in. “—But why? You’ve never had any trouble in getting...having...uh, you know.” She blushes adorably, the apples her cheeks glowing.

  
_Wow_ , you think in awe. Ymir truly is useless if her girlfriend struggles to even say the word sex.  


  
”Let’s just say the person I have in mind wouldn’t be interested.” You sigh sullenly, like a true horny teenager.  


  
”Are you serious? Who wouldn’t be interested in you? You could get anyone you wanted.”  


  
Ymir nods in agreement. The lesbians are right, you are extremely attractive on all levels. But it’s a curse just as much as it’s a blessing. For one, almost everyone you _do_ have sex with looks like a gremlin compared to you.  


  
It’s also a curse in the sense that you’ve never truly experienced wanting someone as desperately as most people do. There’s no prolonged, intense wait, no feverish yearning—it tends to go along the lines of you asking your boo if they want a quickie in the nearest storage cupboard and them nodding eagerly in response.  


  
”Who could it be?” Christa asks and you narrow your eyes. The blonde is unwaveringly kind and would never gossip, or spread your secrets.  


  
The brunette _bitch_ next to her, on the other hand, is probably already contacting the nearest newspaper outlet with tomorrow’s headline in mind.  


  
”Uh, you’re gonna laugh. It’s not really the person, it’s more...their company that’s holding me back.”  


  
Christa purses her lips in thought whilst a goofy, stupid grin stretches out Ymir’s lips. If this was a modern au, you’d say she looks like a fucking purge mask.  


  
”Yaeger. _Yaeger_!” She cackles, a little too loudly and you sense that his table has heard.  


  
He looks at you curiously, with those wide jade eyes and you feel an explicable urge to carry his children.  


  
Welp. He’s probably already aware of what you have in mind for him, given that Ymir’s abnormally large mouth just screamed his name out for the whole hall to hear. You flash him a smile, charming and smouldering, and he looks down with a blush. Thank fuck, for winning the genetic lottery.  


  
You pretend that Mikasa isn’t burning holes into your back with her eyes.  


  
”Can your mouth get any bigger?”  


  
”Want me to give it a try? _YAE—_ ” You clasp a hand around her mouth and she licks it. Groaning in disgust, you clean it off on a horrified Christa’s jacket.  


  
”I’m glad my eye is swollen so I don’t have to look at your ugly mug.” You roll your eyes like a true bad bitch does in the face of adversity.  


  
”Eren? How did you know, Ymir?” Christa asks calmly. Her girlfriend answers with a smug twist of the lips and you have a good mind to spitefully tweak her nipple again.  


  
You decide against it because it may swell and enlarge and if this how Ymir acts with a tragic A cup then you don’t even want to think about the confidence she would have _with_ titties.  


  
”Come on, the company thing was a dead giveaway. You’ve heard the stories. You’ve seen the bodies. Remember what happened what Joanna last summer?”  


  
Ah yes, Joanna. Sweet little Joanna who confessed her feelings of love to Eren and mysteriously disappeared before being found a week later, three miles away from camp and mauled beyond recognition. It’s no secret that Mikasa was behind it but because no one particularly cares to die an early death, it’s never been investigated.  


  
”Yikes. You’re right. I’m not sure if you’d be able to bag him, L/N.” Christa frowns, once more. Ymir looks as though she’s solved the cold case of the century.  


  
”It’s cool,” You throw up a peace sign whilst pouting. “—I’ll just hit up one of my side hoes.”  


~

  
”Oh, yeah. That’s...the spot, alright.” You frown discontentedly as Thomas thrusts into you.  


  
”You could try sounding a little more enthusiastic.” He cocks a brow whilst lifting up your leg. Normally, the position would have you going wild but today, it feels more like a session at the chiropractors.  


  
_A dickless titan could fuck me better_.  


  
”Shit, sorry,” you apologise. “Oh _yeah,_ that _is_ the spot, alright!” You try, louder as though his dick has four more inches to it. To your surprise, good ol’ Tommo actually looks pleased.  


  
”Thank you.” He nods and picks up the pace. You lie on your back, trying to pinpoint the exact moment where your life went to shit.  


”Maybe if I stanned Loona...” you whisper underneath your breath, confused as to why Thomas is rubbing your clit like he expects a genie to fly out of it and why you’re getting _zero_ pleasure from the action.  


  
”Hey,” the idea comes to you as he whines like pig in a slaughterhouse. “—Could you...talk about how you hate the titans?”  


  
He stops thrusting to give you a look that consists of concern for your mental health and complete disgust.  


  
”Uhhhh,” he begins intelligently. “—What?”  


  
”Y’know. Just a casual rant. If you’re not up for it, I can always go and find someone else—“ You start to pick yourself up and Thomas scrambles to hold your thighs in place. Heh. Sucker.  


  
”Hey, don’t go! I’ll—I’ll do it. What do you want me to say?” He looks at you with the pleading eyes of a simp. You know it because have them too.  


  
You tap your chin thoughtfully, before lying back down.  


  
”...Just that you hate the titans for what they did to you, that you’ll slaughter every last one of them and avenge your mother. The usual. Be creative with it, though. _Capisce_?” You smile and guide him back into you with a thumbs up.  


  
”Capisce,” he repeats, whilst manoeuvring his hips back and forth. “—Uh, I want to kill you—”  


  
”Hold on, now wait a damn minute,” you lift your head up uncomfortably, bearing all eighteen of your chins. “I said rant about the titans, not _me_. Weirdo. Try again, and with passion! Really shout it!”  


  
”My bad. Ugh, I...fucking hate the titans! T-They make me sick, I...I want them dead...so badly!” He starts off and you sigh happily, finally being able to feel dull sparks of pleasure ignite within you. “—I’ll kill them a-all, oh _fuck_ , just like that. I’ll fucking slaughter them all!”  


  
He begins to moan midway through his anti-Titan propaganda speech and you close your eyes and envisage Eren’s emotionally constipated face.  


  
”Yup. Keep going.”  


  
”My mom—oh, my poor mom!” He sobs out, a little too convincingly, and you open up your blackened eye slightly to make sure he’s not actually crying. “—She suffered so much. I’ll make them suffer _too_!” He shouts in what is practically a whistle note.  


  
”Really, Ere—Thomas?” You ask, panting as he begins to hit the right spot. At fucking last.  


  
”Yeah, of course, baby!” He reaffirms and it’s surprisingly easy to pretend that it’s Eren’s hideously loud voice booming through your ear drums.  


  
The rant goes on for a while until you finally find your sacred, long-lost nut. Thomas looks at you with a besotted expression and you give him a confused, somewhat grossed out stare.  


  
”Did I do well?” He laces his fingers with your own, blond hair matted and stuck to this forehead and a heavy breathlessness to his voice.  


  
”Eh. Mediocre at best. Your delivery was flat at first but it got better. You’ve got potential so I’d recommend taking classes.” You pat him head whilst taking your hand from his and get dressed. “—I’d still keep your day job though.”  


  
”—And cut this!” You tug on his fringe and he groans in pain. You slam the door shut, having gotten what you needed.  


~

  
Okay, maybe you didn’t get what you needed. It’s been a few days since your rendezvous with Thomas and truthfully, you’re still as unsatisfied as ever. Time to get your clown shoes on because it looks the circus is hiring.  


  
Naturally, you’ve tried wandering down every avenue that could quell this feeling of sexual ineptitude. Reading, training, arguing with Ymir, sneaking into the boys barracks and farting on Jean’s pillow. _Everything_ and still, you feel the same.  


  
”Fuck me, this is some good shit!”  


  
Except for recreational drug use.  


  
Hiding in an old, abandoned section of the training grounds behind some rickety old building, you decide that sucking gas out of the ODM gear canisters is your only option left.  


  
”Oh, shit I’m never doing coke again!” You cackle, presumably way too loudly to be inconspicuous but eh, you’re high and _who cares_?  


  
”Is anyone there?”  


  
A meek, sweet voice breaks through your peal of laughter. You look up, zoinked as fuck and black eye even more swollen.  


  
”Christa? Come here, babygirl, it’s about time you left that lezzy bitch—” You raise your brows suggestively but the blond creature only cuts you off.  


  
”No...it’s Armin.” The voice clarifies shyly and you squint.  


  
”...Are you sure?”  


  
”Uh...yeah?” He blinks in confusion. Damn, if anyone should be confused, it’s you. Why does Armin, Erwin and Christa all look like the same person in various blond wigs?  


  
_Fuckin’ animators..._ You think hazily, not completely sure of what an animator is.  


  
”You don’t sound too sure. You’re not from the debt collectors, are you? Because I told you, I just need more time!”  


  
A high gasp comes from ’Armin’ (you have yet to confirm the validity of his identity) and you notice that he’s come closer now, with his eyes wide in horror at the gas canister in your lap.  


  
”Is that—what are you _doing?  
_

__

  
“Finding God.” You take another heavy, long suck from the nozzle and Armin runs to you, inspecting the crime scene.  


  
”Hey Army, do you want some? Because I’m a communist, I can share if you’d like—“  


__

  
He scratches his head worriedly. Damn, he has a lot of hair. It’s rather pretty, a piss yellow sort of colour that brings out the blue of his eyes.  


__

  
”No, thank you.”  


__

  
Another inhale of gas and you snort loudly.  


__

  
“Do you hate Jews?”  


__

  
”...Do I hate _what?_ No, not at all.” He crosses his arms tersely, like a substitute teacher telling the class that he’ll wait and it’s not his lunch hour that’s going to be wasted if everyone keeps on talking.  


__

  
”Cool. You can sit with me, then. Anti-semitism is not it though, chief. You should change up your look. It’s kind of misleading.”  


__

  
He sits but doesn’t reply and you don’t really give a shit because if you got any higher, you’d be in heaven, giving the angels body cavity searches. Taking a few more hits of gas, you slouch against the wood in bliss.  


__

  
”This isn’t good,” he murmurs glumly. “—This is bad. Really, really bad.”  


__

  
”Do you wanna fuck? I kind of wanna fuck. My head game is great but if you want proof my resume’s in my left pocket so just take it out...” You chuckle, unable to open your eyes. “Don’t do me dirty and steal my weed though.”  


__

  
”You’ve lost the plot, haven’t you?” He whispers in terror and the look on his face _sends_ you. “—This is worse than bad, this is terrible!” He groans, holding his head in his hands as though someone finally revealed to him that he looks like a bootleg Christa.  


__

  
”Chill out, Army. You’re ruining my vibe,” You wrap an arm around him and squeeze, feeling him squirm.  


__

  
”—Take a hit.” You offer the sacred nozzle up to him and he trembles at the sight of it. As he should! This is some good ass shit. You make a mental note to start selling it.  


__

  
”No. No, I think I need to get you out of here.”  


__

  
Wow, Army is a real piece of work. First, he interrupts your recreational drug use session and now he refuses to join the celebrations? What a killjoy. Wait...what if this is all a setup? What if someone framed you—no, that’s not possible because you stole this canister yourself.  


__

  
But _wait_! It is possible that someone sent Army here, someone who hates you, in order to snitch on you to get you thrown out of the training corps! Then you’ll never achieve your destiny of fucking up the Titans and then fucking some exotic babes immediately after!  


__

_If he rats on me...I bet the little fucker’s working for Jean! Only Jean is capable of such evils!_ The theory sounds great in your head and just as you’re about to accuse him for being a spy, the sound of footsteps interrupts you.  


__

  
”Armin, where have you been? We’ve been looking all over for you?” A distinctly annoying voice begins.  


  
He scrambles up towards the duo that have also just crashed your session, leaving you against the building. Life truly is lonely. Through your blurred vision, you catch flashes of red fabric and dark hair.  


  
”That’s one ratty ass scarf!” You begin, taking a hit of that good shit. “—I can’t believe my eyes. It’s rattiest shit I’ve ever seen! You’re disgusting for putting that so close to your face. I bet the original cancer cell’s buried in that thing!”  


  
Your laughter dissipates into a case of whooping cough and the three losers look at you in sober judgment.  


  
”I came here to read,” Army says, holding up a book with a suspicious looking magazine tucked sloppily in it. “—But I found her. She’s...getting high off of the ODM gas. What should we do? Take her back to the barracks?”  


  
They stare at you in thoughtful silence. You squint, as hard as you can, before realising that it is the holy trinity of childhood trauma who has just found you.  


  
_Oh, fuck. Did I just cuss out Mikasa Ackerman? Oh well, I was here for a good time, not a long time. At least if I die now, I’ll go out high_ , you sober a little at the revelation and decide the best way to deal with it is get even more fucked up. Time for another hit, you guess.  


  
”I think we should leave her here.” Mikasa comments dryly and as much as you want to call her a donkey for it, you know you shouldn’t.  


  
”I think so too!” You nod eagerly, although this time making a conscious effort to look sexy in front of Eren. There’s no way he could resist you with your legs stretched out like this. Maybe, if you’re lucky, he can eat your ass once before Mikasa obliterates you out of existence. 

  


  
You take a small, although blatant suck from the nozzle like a those raggedy crackheads who walk around with raccoons on leashes and hear an enraged growl. What the fuck? If you had known the furries would be out here at this time, you would’ve snitched to Shadis.

  


  
Someone knocks the canister from your hands.  


  
“Come here, you idiot!” Green, angry eyes stare you down and before you know it, Eren Yeager—number one on your fuck list— has you lifted up and slung you over his shoulder. Wow, his arms are so strong. So muscular. So thick. You squeal in excitement.  


  
” _Weeee!_ ”  


  
”How much did you have?” He sighs, and you can just _hear_ the clench in his jaw. Ooh, just when you thought he couldn’t get any hotter! Today, is a great day for you. Your panties, not so much.  


  
You count with your fingers, eyes still screwed shut and legs kicking up in contentment.  


  
”Well...I had almost the entire canister and I could’ve finished it too, no thanks to you. There was also a fatass joint. And a couple of shrooms...” He stops in shock and you hear Army’s high, pussy ass gasp from behind you. Mikasa, of course, is silent. Mute bitch.  


  
”—And a bottle of WKD but only a miniature one! It was on sale!”  


  
”How the fuck are you still alive?” He asks in genuine amazement. You scowl. It’s all his fault that you’re like this, anyways. If he just told Mikasa to fuck off and let you give him a handy then you would have never taken it this far.  


  
”Um, prolonged substance abuse? I’ve been doing this for a long time, kiddies.” You laugh and a few few birds drop dead in shock at the sound. Resting your head comfortably on his shoulders, you decide to live up the rest of your presumably short life.  


  
A majority of the walk is silent. You don’t have the strength nor the courage to look at Mikasa and Armin seems as though he’s been scarred for life. You resign yourself to humming cheerily, as the sinew of Eren’s tree trunk ass arms haul you around like a flaming pile of trash.  


  
”I’ll take her from here.” Mikasa says all of a sudden.  


  
Your eyes fly wide open.  


  
”Oh,” You raise your brows, suddenly having the fear of God put into you. This is ridiculous, a cock destroyer like you shouldn’t be afraid of this puny virgin. And yet, the mere sight of her makes you want to nosedive over the walls for protection. At least the titans would give you clean death.  


  
”— That’s _so _nice of you. But I don’t think it’s necessary. Thanks, though. I can make my own way.” You squirm and try to get out of Eren’s grip but he only holds you tighter. Your waist feels like it’s gonna break.  
__

____

  
_But if I nut right now, I’d be the bad guy...it’s a twisted world we live in._  


  
”You can barely stand!” Eren protests and you groan internally. He’d be so much hotter if he had selective mutism.  


  
”What’s it to you?” You bait him, in hopes that he’ll admit to harbouring a lifelong sexual attraction to you. “—I’m used to this anyways. Let me go, Eren.”  


  
”No!” He grunts and you almost moan in response.  


  
”I told you,” Mikasa insists. “—You’re coming with me.”  


  
Very rarely have you ever felt true fear, although there are moments where you came close to it. There was the time you got caught blowing your neighbour’s son in front of a chicken coop, and the time you shat yourself in your sleep but didn’t have spare bedsheets. Or toilet paper.  


  
But Mikasa’s face brings you a different type of fear. It makes your heart plunge into your asshole. There’s nothing that you want to do more than high-tail it back to the pit you crawled out of and _hide_.  


  
”Well, bois, it’s been real.” Eren’s grips loosens as you stumble over to Mikasa, heartbroken that _Thomas Wagner_ was the last guy you fucked. He’ll probably go to your funeral thinking he was special. Oh great, your legacy as a hoe has officially been destroyed.  


  
_At least I won’t have to pay my debts off..._  


  
”Come on.” She slaps a hand over your shoulder and you _swear_ that your bones rattle in response. What was this bitch breastfed? You reckon it was a mixture of gunpowder and tears.  


  
You knew you should’ve written up your will when you had the chance.  


~

  
”And you survived?”  


  
The scissor sisters stare at you in disbelief. Smugly, like a baddie b, you wave a dismissive hand through the air.  


  
”Well, duh. All she did was call me pathetic, which I already knew, so the jokes on her.”  


  
”At least you’re self aware.” Ymir’s quips and you don’t even have it in you to argue. After your brush with death, you’d like to think of yourself as reformed citizen.  


  
No more petty disagreements or instigating physical fights only to worm your way out through the crowd and hiding afterwards. No more blackmailing people and supporting acts of cruelty for your own perverse enjoyment. No more—  


  
“Oh shit, Kirstein and Yaeger are going at it again!” Someone screeches from across the canteen and you jump up with an eager smile.  


  
”Straight people are a disease.” Ymir says.  


  
”But _we’re_ the ones who don’t deserve rights!” Christa scoffs, a hand on her hip.  


  
”Yes!” You bellow, pushing your way through the crowd and stomping over a few bystanders. “—Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!”  


  
Eren notices you, brows furrowing as though he betrayed by your actions. Jean punches him in the jaw and damn it, do you feel like you’ve cock-blocked yourself!  


  
_Clownery...absolute clownery...  
_

  
”Ughhh... I mean...you can do it Eren! Tranquillise that horse!” You backtrack, screaming with sensational vibrato if you do say so yourself, and swear that he _laughs_ as he pummels Jeanie into the ground.  


  
Jean-boy getting a foot up his ass and you getting one step closer to the dick appointment of your dreams has officially made this is the best day of your life. Not everyone in life is a winner but certainly are.  


  
You watch the fight, although it quickly gets boring. How much energy do these dumbasses have? If anything, it looks as though they have unresolved sexual tension. Still, you hoot and toot and act like a complete fuckwad for the sake of seducing Eren. God, he’s so much work. His dick better be _huge_.  


  
”Reconstruct his face, Eren! Make it shorter if possible!”  


  
Eventually, that disgusting old fuck named Shadis comes in screaming and contaminates the air with his poisonous breath. The crowd of onlookers dissipates and the wrestling match ends. You tell Christa and Ymir that you can’t stand straight, old men and that it’s time to bounce. Them, being the misandrists they are, agree.  


  
Then, a finger taps you on the shoulder.  


  
”Do not presume to touch me, peasant—“ And, of course, it’s Yaeger standing there with a stupid expression on his face when you look back.  


  
”—Yeah?” You ask plainly. His cheeks are a little red. It’s cute, you suppose. Not Christa-level but up there, somewhere.  


  
”I wanted to ask how you’re feeling. You were out of it, the other day!” You realise that his face is just stuck in an expression of permanent anger. Hm. It’s so ugly that it’s endearing.  


”Mm. Better, thanks to you.” You smile, all dimples and softness. You ignore the gagging sound Ymir makes. “—It was sweet of you. I appreciate you picking me up when I couldn’t walk.”  


  
He flushes again and your spidey senses tell you that he’s a virgin.  


  
”It’s nothing! I didn’t want to just leave you there!” He screams because he’s Eren Yaeger and apparently Eren’s Yaeger’s thing is making everyone’s ears bleed.  


  
You stand and talk for a while, mourning the fact that you have to go through his sober. But just when you think all of this going wonderfully, and you can almost feel the balls in your face, he kills the fucking mood.  


  
”You really shouldn’t use up gas like that, though! Those resources are...valuable and you wasted them!” You barely contain your eyeroll and Ymir, that no-good rat, begins to snigger uncontrollably.  


  
”I was...stressed. It doesn’t make it right but I’m s-s-so—“ You strain to get the word out. “—S-s- _suwy_  


  
”What?  


  
“I’m...I _apologise_ ,” You switch up your word choice as it’s clear this is going nowhere. Never in your life have you ever said the S-word. Honestly, the things you do for dick.  


  
He smiles gently and you resist the urge to bonk him over the head. God, you hate it when men smile. What the hell is so funny? Misogyny?  


  
You stare at him in boredom. Is he not aware of your strictly sex policy? You’re a renowned hoe, it’s no secret and you’re known for it amongst the barracks, yet he insists on talking to you about things other than fingerblasting you in the nearest bush! What a fucking dweeb.  


  
”I’ve always admired your views on the Titans! Everyone calls me suicidal and tells me that I’m out of my depth when I talk about joining the Scouts but you...make me feel a little more understood! It’s good to know that someone else feels the way I do!” He shrieks.  


  
You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.  


  
”Um. Yeah.”  


  
”—And when you said it on the first day on enlisting, I knew that we’d have so much in common! I didn’t know how to approach you though! You always seemed...busy! With other guys!” He drawls on about feelings and memories and blah blah _blah_ can he just whip his dick out already?  


  
Looking back, you notice that your only friends have made a prompt escape. So now you’re all alone with this ranting weirdo. He was so much more attractive from a distance when you couldn’t hear him.  


  
”Eren,” you sigh. “—Do you wanna fuck?”  


  
He looks you in the eye, determined as ever, as his hands cross against his chest in salute. Straightening out his back, he screams as spit comes flying out of his mouth.  


  
”Fuck yeah!”  


~

  
You hadn’t expected for him to be so clingy afterwards. Shit, now you’re trapped in a dingy, roach-infested storage cupboard with Eren’s arms borderline choking you to death. It’s hot, too, and your titties are beginning to sweat.  


  
_Why wasn’t I aborted?_ You sigh, feeling a little stink. Oh well, at least taking his virginity was fun.  


  
A great ancient proverb once said: _Pussy put his ass to sleep now he calling me NyQuil_. You’re not sure what it means but damn, the pussy truly did put Eren’s ass to sleep. He’s drooling a little too, with his mouth gaping wide open. How the fuck are you supposed to leave him here without waking him up?  


  
It takes an hour and a lot of flexibility but, eventually, you’re able to crawl out of his arms, get dressed and begin your sprint back to female barracks.  


  
_Did he have any clothes on when I left...?_  


  
Yikes, the janitor’s gonna have a shock when he finds Eren in there tomorrow. In your defence, a naked hot guy is a pretty nice surprise so hopefully he won’t make too much of a commotion about it.  


  
Oh well, you achieved your goal and that’s all that matters!  


  
”My titan-hating _QUEEEEEN_! Come back here!” You hear something call from behind you and pick up the pace, thinking it’s a rabid wolf.  


  
Looking back, you see a fully clothed Eren chasing after you. Frankly, it scares you more than a rabid wolf ever would.  


  
You respond in the most intelligent, mature way you can think of.  


  
”Oh, balls!”  



	3. The Eren Yeager Saga: Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I was sick while writing this so if it’s an unfunny trainwreck then pls don’t cyberbully me 😔🖐
> 
> Anyways,,,there’s one last part to the Eren yaeger trilogy and then we’re going to HOE IT UP TENFOLD ! 
> 
> Thanks to the ppl who left comments and kudos y’all are definitely going to heaven. If you don’t leave me comments and kudos then you may or may not have a place in the fiery pits of hell 
> 
> Also! Eren’s characterisation might seem over the top and overly mushy and in love but I feel as though he’s a passionate person and once he dedicates himself to something, he’ll do anything for it. Which is why he’s a SIMP YOUR HONOUR !

  
”Cadet [L/N], blunt force trauma would kill you before the titans even got one _look_ at your pathetic, mongoloid ass! Get the hell up!”  


  
You continue to dangle from the tree precariously, swinging forward to bang your head against the bark. Just a few more hits and it’ll be lights out. Hopefully, you’ll die and wake up in Hell with the homosexuals and Catholic priests.  


  
”Um...I can’t?” You try pathetically. Clearly, your bestie Shadis doesn’t believe you because he rolls his eyes and screams even louder as you pummel yourself into the bark.  


  
” _Bitch_! Don’t make me come up there!”  


  
”Oh, would you look at that! I can!” You hop up and begin swinging from tree to tree like a squirrel on an acid trip.  


  
  
Mikasa flies while the rest of you simply move. You watch her, admiring her tenacity until she turns to give you the sharpest, most disgusted look known to mankind. You clench your asscheeks together to prevent shitting yourself.  


  
Eren follows swiftly after, staring knives into her back because he’s pathetic, jealous and has zero clout. If him being a puny piece of shit is so triggering to him, then he should start taking ass-shots like Reiner. Those steroids changed his dick game forever. You’ll never forget the night you had with—  


  
”Are you okay, love?” A voice snaps you out of your thoughts. How someone’s voice has just cockblocked you, you’ll never know.  


  
And of course, it’s that shrieking shithead Eren. He doesn’t look angry anymore, with a fat simp-like, dreamy grin on his face.  


  
”Fuck off!” You shout back, smacking your ODM gear in hopes that it jams and you fall to the ground, dying a tragic _accidental_ death in the eyes of the coroners.  


  
Sadly, it doesn’t work and you’re forced to continue living. In fact, you’re forced to continue a lot of things, like bunking with Annie (you’re pretty sure her vagina has teeth), latrine duty (you didn’t get caught doing anything wrong, Shadis just hates you) and doing this stupid ass exercise with Eren’s stupid ass trailing after you (you wished you had stayed cellibate). Why does God hate you so much? You’re literally the perfect person. Hot, sexy and a great sense of humour! What more could he ask for?  


  
“No, I need to know you’re alright! Come here and let me check your head!” His eyes look slightly insane as he asks you.  


  
You really hope that if your gear won’t fuck up then his _will_.  


  
”No!”  


  
”Sweetheart, come here! I can’t do this without you,” Oh great, he going off on one of his mentally unhinged rants. Maybe you should’ve just listened. “I can’t avenge my mother without you! If you die now because of an untreated concussion, we’ll never see what’s outside of the walls! Come here, now!”  


  
His words, weird as they are, make some sort of sense. Perhaps, you are overreacting. Maybe you should give Eren a chance. He’s considerate and cares for you deeply—you may never find anyone like him again. As for the outside world, looking upon it seems like a beautiful, distant dream. A dream that you both share.  


  
But then you catch a glimpse of Bertolt’s slender neck through the thick foliage. It’s pale and muscular and _gorgeous_. Looking back at Eren, you know exactly what to tell him.  


  
”Your mother was a whore!”  


  
”And my girlfriend is too! Well, reformed! Isn’t that strange? Armin says I have an Oedipus Complex but I don’t think that’s true! What do you think?” He comes closer to you, genuinely expecting a psychological assessment. As for an _Oodipussy complex_...you have no words.  


  
Gritting your teeth and sucking in a breath, you get ready to tell Eren that you’re not his girlfriend and how you’d rather date the fourteenth centimetre of Jean’s chin than him.  


  
”Are you on crack? How am I supposed to know?” You ask, with wide disbelieving eyes. “—Okay, maybe you have some form of maternal trauma. You should definitely talk to someone about that. Now _fuck off_!”  


  
Luckily for you, Eren has as many chromosomes as you have morals. He begins to swing far off into the distance murmuring angrily about how the titans are ruining his relationship.  


  
You land on the ground safely after your botched attempt at ending your miserable (monogamous) life. Christa, who you actually wish you were dating, is there to pat you on the back consolingly.  


  
”Maybe next time!” She smiles brightly and gestures towards your bruised forehead. You resist the urge to cry. Maybe if you’re lucky, she’ll give you a kiss out of pity.  


~

  
Eren seems to believe that you’re dating. You don’t know where he might’ve gotten the idea from but since that fateful night in the storage closet, he’s making your life hell because of it.  


  
” _Aaaaaaah!” Mustering up all the energy you had, the female barracks seemed closer than ever. Your asscheeks were closely clenched together, arms waving in the air for greater momentum—nothing could stop you now._  


  
_”Why are you running? Why are you running?”_  


  
_For a malnourished peasant, Yeager was unbelievably quick. He caught up to you, a wild animal look contorting his features. There was no way in dick you could compete with him. Firmly plopping on the grass, you decided to take your fate like a man.  
_

__

  
_”Finally! You’re a pretty fast runner!” He bellowed, voice echoing through the night sky. You winced, wondering if it would’ve been rude to stick your fingers in your ears whilst he was talking to you._  


__

  
_”Why did you leave? I know have a reputation for getting around...but—but I thought we had something special!” You rolled your eyes, ready to let him down gently. It was always the fresh non-virgins who caught feelings. Tragic._  


__

  
_”—I like you a lot! I’ve liked you for a long time! You’re funny and beautiful and when I’m around you, I feel...happy! We should be together! We should date! Then, we can join the Survey Corps and kill titans together until one of us dies an untimely, violent death!” Eren stepped closer, his mentally unhinged expression softening under the incandescence of the moon._  


__

  
_**Nah**. Run that shit back, one more time.  
_

__

__

__

  
_For a split second, the idea of becoming a nun and practising celibacy seemed incredibly delicious to you because what in the ever loving _fuck_ was your vagina made out of? You could never seem to have casual bang without getting some sort of a proposition after._  


__

__

__

  
_”Uh. I don’t know about that one, chief—“_  


__

__

__

  
_”No!” He started to salute again like a weirdo. “—You don’t know what you mean to me! You made me a man! So let me treat you right, as my woman!”  
_

__

__

__

__

__

__

__

  
_“What? Hold on, Yaeger, I think your interpretation of what just happened isn’t really all that consistent with, uh, reality!” You shot onto your feet and tried to explain that by no means would you have ever jeopardised your future as a hoe for some garbage ass boy._  


__

__

__

__

__

__

__

_  
The dick was good but by no means the best. Truthfully, he made you do all the work and that probably accounted for why it was as good as it was. All in all, a memorable first time for him but nothing spectacular for you. A five out of ten. Definitely not worth tying the knot over and abandoning all future sexpeditions._  


__

__

__

  
_”But I just want to make you as happy as you make me! I can’t even describe the way I felt back there—  
_

__

__

__

__

__

__

__

  
_”That would be called orgasm.”_  


__

__

__

__

__

__

__

  
_”—I’m in love with you, don’t you understand that?” As if the little fuckwad couldn’t get any cheekier, what he came out with next was even worse. “—By the way, in case you didn’t know, I saw my mom get eaten alive! Just something to...consider!””_  


  
_Did he just try to manipulate the manipulator? What a lame ass bitch. Some people were truly morally bankrupt._  


__

__

__

__

__

__

  
_With an uncharacteristic shyness, Eren pulled out a little wire hoop, that he most likely fashioned in the storage cupboard, and slipped it onto your ring finger. He looked at you with such a pleading, intense countenance that for a moment, the world had stopped spinning. All your senses had failed you, your mind had shut down completely—all you could feel was Eren._  


_You promptly ripped the ring off and threw it onto the ground._

__

__

__

__

__

__

  
_”You motherfucker! I haven’t had a tetanus shot in years!” You stomp on the rusty, murderous thing before looking back at his paling, saddened face._  


  
_”—I don’t like you, Yeager, so stop setting yourself up with these stupid ass confessions.”_  


  
_”Then, why did you take my virginity?” He fired back with raging, bulging eyes._  


  
_Even the crickets in background looked at him like he was stupid._  


  
_“Is that a serious question? You can’t be serious, Yaeger, I’m a hoe! It’s what I do! I love ‘em then I leave ‘em,” He only looked at you blankly. “—You ever heard of that routine?  
_

  
_He stood there for a while, silent and brooding. That pretty, excruciatingly expressive face was shrouded in the shadow and darkness. You had no way of knowing what he was thinking. Then, abruptly and slowly all at once, his hands reached out and cupped your face. He kissed you tenderly, calloused fingertips clutching at your cheeks.  
_

__

__

__

  
_”Ew! Cooties!” You spluttered as you jerked away._  


__

__

__

__

__

__

__

  
_”I don’t care about your past! I only care about the future...our future! You’re the only person I ever want to be with! I won’t give up on you because I know that we’re a good match—even if you can’t see that right now! We’ll travel outside of the walls! We’ll decimate the titans! We’ll avenge my mother!” He nodded his head furiously, evidently liking the sound of his own words._  


  
_Shuffling your feet nervously, you wondered if you could sneak away whilst he was tiring himself out with his never-ending, psychotic ass speech.  
_

_  
“— Do you want me to walk you to your barracks?” Well, that plan just got flushed down the shitter._  


  
_“No.” You cupped a hand over your mouth, trying not to vomit when he smiled at you, all teeth and adoration._  


  
_”Then, I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye, my love.”_  


  
_He sauntered off in the direction of the men’s barracks with a huge smile and noticeable limp. You collapsed to the ground in defeat, staring into the ground for what seemed like an eternity._  


  
_”How the fuck did I get outsimped?” You spoke at last, the watery slivers of moonlight being your only response._  


  
“Oh, so that’s why you didn’t come back last night? That was dangerous. Were there any wolves nearby camp? I could’ve sworn I heard howling but Sasha said she couldn’t smell any.” Mina comments, eyes wide from the wildness of your story.  


  
“Nah. It was probably me crying.”  


  
“Yeah, that makes sense.”  


  
You crane your head downwards, peering at Annie. As usual, she looks bored as hell.  


  
Silence engulfs the barracks when you pull yourself up. The girls look sheepish, Sasha shuffles uncomfortably next to you and Ymir sniggers into Christa’s hair. You wonder what the fuck is wrong with these bitches. _You’re_ the one who’s being relentlessly pursued by a deranged simp orphan so why do they get to look so upset?  
  


  
“...This...um...” Sasha begins meekly. You cock a brow. Time is money and, currently, you’re broke as hell.  


  
”Spit it out.”  


  
”This isn’t the end of our...arrangements, is it?”  


  
_Oh._  


  
You turn and tickle the underside of her chin, lightly. She giggles like the obnoxious, pussy-whipped hick she is and you smile. Damn, you’re good.  


  
“Of course not, my little country-bumpkin,” you twirl a lock of her hair around your finger. “—And the same goes for the rest of you lovely ladies. My service will _not_ be affected by Eren’s clownery, rest assured.” You dictate and hear a few of the girls such in relief.  


  
”But won’t that count as cheating? If you’re with Eren, then you’d be cheating on him if you sleep with us.” A blonde whose name you haven’t bothered to learn points out. All you know is she’s got stamina, a foot fetish and a big stupid mouth judging by what she’s just said.  


  
You try not to glower at her and, instead, give a well-thought out answer.  


  
“No, because I’m not dating him. You can’t cheat on someone that you’re not in a relationship with.”  


  
”I don’t know,” Sasha pipes up, shovelling a steamed potato in her gigantic gob. “—It kind of sounds like you are.” 

  
”How?” You squint annoyedly, hoping to catch sight of the amount brain cells she’s lacking. “—How the fuck does it sound like I’m dating him, Sasha?”  


  
”He got you a ring.” She shrugs.  


  
“That I _stomped_ on.”  


  
“He picks you flowers everyday!”  


  
”I have _hay fever_.”  


  
”He beat up Jean when he tried to insult you.” Mina tries lamely.  


  
”Sasha would’ve done the same if I bribed her with a cheese slice. Does that mean I’m dating _Sasha_?” You try not to push the yeehaw ass bitch off of your bed when her eyes widen in consideration.  


  
”Um...” She begins nervously.  


  
”No, of course not! And besides, we all know you’re in love with Connie’s two inch chode.” You grumble and she swats you on the arm. As if you’re still not bruised from Ymir’s man hands.  


  
Mina cackles at her dumbfounded expression and Christa sighs, craning her head up from Ymir’s violent attempt at cuddling.  


  
”What do you plan on doing? Clearly, Eren’s got the wrong idea so maybe it would be best to sit him down and explain your feelings—or lack of—to him.” She reasons and her humanoid giant strap-on groans.  


  
”Let her suffer, Chrissie. It’s what she deserves.” She pulls the blonde tighter against her in a suffocating headlock. Christa sighs comfortably.  


  
”If I open my mouth you’re finished, big head,” You warn before getting back to the more pressing matter at hand. “—And as for Eren...I tried but honesty doesn’t seem to work on him. He literally won’t take no for an answer. Everything goes back to avenging his mom as if I’m the reason she got chewed on like a chicken wing! I can’t settle down with him. Or anyone! The hoe life is the _only_ life, period! ” You cut a line through the air harshly and feel an immense surge of power.  


  
_I need to say that more often._  


  
”This is a tricky one...” Christa’s voice is muffled by Ymir’s obese armpit but you can tell she’s thinking hard on how to resolve this issue. As she should. With all the emotional damage Ymir has caused you over the years, the least she could do is help you out of this shit situation.  


  
Something within you lights up. You bend down to look at Annie’s glazed over, apathetic eyes. Either that bitch has some great weed or terrible childhood trauma.  


  
”What do you think, Annie?” You ask, curiously. If she doesn’t give you a good enough answer, you can always plant some drugs under her pillow and snitch to Shadis. Oh yeah, she better have something good to offer to this conversation.  


  
She blinks once, seemingly feeling no pressure despite all of the eyes on her. You’re beginning to wonder if she’s ever been lobotomised.  


  
”Well,” she begins and you lean in in anticipation. “—He treats you with kindness and is clearly dedicated to you. I can understand that it’s overwhelming, not only because of you’ve never been in a serious relationship, but also because Yaeger is—by nature—an overwhelming person. Perhaps, all you need to do is give him a chance. See if you can fall into a routine with him and maybe, you’ll find that you enjoy being with him other than in a sexual sense. Talk to him, find out if you have any common interests and what you share as people because he won’t give up on you easily. If it doesn’t work after that then I’m sure he’ll able to see it.”  


  
Wow. This is the most Annie’s ever spoken. Her voice is ripe with clarity and bares the fruit of logic.  


  
But logic doesn’t get you raw dogged at the back of training grounds when Shadis isn’t looking.  


  
”Bitch, now I know why you don’t talk. For good reason too! Y’all hearing this?” You look around and see disappointed expressions. Sasha shakes her head as though in disgust.  


  
”It makes sense—“ Mina pipes up but is cut off by the door swinging open.  


  
And, of course, because you’re God’s favourite child, it’s Mikasa standing at the entrance. She saunters in like the hot shit she is and stop at the foot of your bunk.  


  
”Eren wants you to join us at dinner. You better be there.” Is all she says.  


  
This time, you’re sure that you’ve shat yourself.  


~

  
”Well well well, if it isn’t the community clitoris,” Jean sneers. “—What brings you here?”  


  
”Former community clitoris,” you roll your eyes so hard, you vision fizzles out for a moment. “—And I thought horses eat in the stables so I should be the one asking that question, _Jeanie_.”  


  
You watch Eren and his band of uglies load up their trays. He stills, feeling your stare on his back and turns to face you, a look of excitement lighting up his features. Waving awkwardly, it isn’t until he turns back to his tray that you grimace.  


  
”Desperado.” You make a face and Jean laughs a little.  


  
”Coming from you?”  


  
”I know! Isn’t that so weird? I didn’t think anyone could be more desperate than me!” Your eyes pop out in shock at the revelation.  


  
He looks at you for a long, disgusted moment before answering blandly.  


  
”It be like that sometimes.”  


  
You groan, shaking your head as you agree that yes, it really do.  


  
He sighs, lips twisting and extra large chin turning. If he was a horse, he’d be the ugly little runt that could barely stand. No one would buy him at the markets and he’d watch all of his friends and family get sold off to wealthy ranch owners whilst he goes home to the same hay he’d been chewing since his birth. What an ugly, pitiful excuse for a horse. Really, he’d be so clapped that you doubt anyone would even put him down purely because it would be fun to see him suffer.  


  
”I feel bad for Yeager. All of the nice, Christian girls here but he had go and catch feelings for _you_.” He deadpans grimly, making a tragically sad expression. Jean is so fucking annoying that the word, itself, can’t express how annoying he truly is.

  
_Why am I here again?_  


  
As if you remind you, the sight of Mikasa’s diseased scarf pops up. You wouldn’t be surprised if it’s stained red with the blood of Eren’s deceased boos. If you weren’t so afraid, you’d snitch and send her ass to jail but sadly, she’d most likely thrive in that environment and work her way up the criminal food-chain. What a fat fucking bummer.  


  
”Mental illness love,” You sigh sullenly, not liking how civil this conversation is. “—But what can I tell you? The power is in the pussy. Worry about your midnight geisha since you can’t even look at her without popping a fat one.” You slide your eyes over to his stupid crotch.  


  
”I don’t—what?” He looks down to see if he’s actually got a boner and you cackle like a hyena with a crack spoon in it’s mouth. What a dumbass.  


  
”Sike,” you smile cruelly like the heinous bitch you are.“We all know about your...erectile dysfunction. There there. Maybe one day she’ll appreciate your flaccid micro-cock.” He glares at you angrily, as you pat his back, opening his mouth to undoubtedly call you the name of a miscellaneous STI attached to the phrase ‘in a wig’.  


  
_Omg cock. That sounds good right now. If only Yeager wasn’t such a creep, I’d be—_  


  
”[Y/N].”  


  
Mikasa says as she sets her tray down, pulling you from your horny train of thought.  


  
”That is I.” You nod and she pauses, looking at you in pure disgust. Damn, she could at least try to hide it.  


  
”My love!” Eren smiles, even though his eyebrows are furrowed angrily, whilst he takes a seat next to you on the table. When you told Jean that he was mentally ill, you truly meant it.

  
He pecks you on the cheek and you try not to squirm in revulsion. You wished you kept him a virgin.  


  
Armin, Marco, Sasha and Connie are quick to join and three out of four are visibly shocked to see you there. It’s that stupid _one_ that starts to pipe up and run her oversized mouth.  


  
”Oh my God, you actually came? I thought you were gonna chicken out! The fact that you fucking shat yourself when Mik—“  


  
” _Sasha_ ,” You cut her off sharply, pushing out your tray in her direction. “—Do you want my bread? It doesn’t taste good to me.”  


  
Sasha grins, her tongue flapping out, and practically raids your plate. For fucks sake, now you’re stuck this nasty ass soup and nothing to blanch out the taste. Oh well, if it shuts her up then it’s a worthwhile sacrifice.  


  
It was hard enough, sneaking out of the barracks with a handful of shitty bedsheets and having to wash them in the nearest stream. You’ll never forgive Mikasa for triggering your stress diarrhoea but there’s also there’s no way in dick you’d forgive Sasha if she aired out your dirty laundry to the Eren Yaeger fanclub.  


  
”How are you? I didn’t catch you at lunch! Or breakfast!” Eren shouts out and the note is shockingly stable as it collides with your eardrums. He’d be such a great power vocalist with training.  


  
You try to smile as innocently as you can but it just looks like you’ve got a ten incher up your ass. The reason why Eren couldn’t locate you was because you had bribed Reiner with some gas canisters and told him to bring you your meals in return. He was surprisingly punctual and efficient. Really, he’d be a wonderful slave. Employee of the month, even.  


  
”I wasn’t feeling well.” You cough out and Mikasa perks up, an elegant brow arching dangerously. Why the fuck does she have to be so straight? And homocidal? Ugh, you swear the universe hates you for depriving you of sweet sweet Mikasa.  


  
_You win hets...you win..._  


  
”What was wrong?” Jean asks, a particularly mean smile on his lips that drags you out of your heterophobic internal rampage. Eren looks at him, somewhat disgusted, and for a moment you believe that through your shared hatred of ugly horse hybrids, you can fall in love with him.  


  
”Stomach issues.”  


  
Armin squeaks consolingly. Eren holds onto your hand. Marco nods sympathetically, having clogged the toilets so many times that he is now banned from the communal toilets and has to do his business in shallowly dug hole named ‘Marco’s hole’.  


  
”At least you’re feeling better now, love.” Eren smiles and Mikasa grits her teeth so loud you can literally fucking hear it. Ew. You know her peasant ass hasn’t got a good dentist so she better quit while she can.  


  
”So, how did Eren and you meet?” Sasha’s four foot chihuahua, otherwise known as Connie, asks with a loaf of bread puffing out his cheeks.  


  
”I got almost overdosed on gas and he found my dying body.” You take another sip of soup whilst Armin begins to look visibly triggered by the experience.  


  
”Fair enough.”  


  
”Well, it didn’t completely go like that!” Eren interjects because he’s Eren and that’s what he likes to do. “—Armin found her first and Mikasa and I found Armin! She was high as a kite, couldn’t even stand but she was laughing so much, I couldn’t help but fall even more in love with her! I’d always liked her but it was that moment that made me want to act on my feelings! I won’t lie, it pissed me off having to carry her back to the barracks but it was a special moment! She took so much, we couldn’t figure out how she was still alive but at least her addictions brought us closer together, right honey?”  


  
”I’m not an addict!”  


  
“Oh, you definitely show symptoms of drug addiction,” Armin chirps, his big blond head shaking with enthusiasm. Oh great, he’s probably been waiting for his moment all of his life.  


  
_Bitches diagnose me because they want to be me..._ You tell yourself soothingly, in an attempt to not knock him over the head and dance all over his spasming, dying body.  


  
”—You...you have rather fast and unpredictable changes in mood, frequent tremors in your limbs,” you quickly steady your shaking hand.”—And a, uh, large sexual appetite. It isn’t improbable that you’ve been intimate with someone in exchange for drugs or money to get your fix—“  


  
_I can’t believe I miss Ymir._ You peer at her and Christa’s table longingly, but to no avail. The scissor sisters have moved on from you by the looks of it, giggling away at what is probably a misandrist joke. As they should. Fuck men.  


  
”Thanks for the concern, Armin. But I’m okay. I know my limits.” You bite through his speech because _what the fuck_? He didn’t need to come for your neck like that.  


  
The realisation that Eren is one whack ass boyfriend dawns upon you. He didn’t even defend you against Armin’s stupid (and incredibly defamatory) claims. He just sat there, like a muscular, sexy lug, listening intently as though he’s planning on shovelling you into rehab the first chance he gets.  


  
Mikasa looks strangely content at your discomfort, eyes raising into subtle crescents, and the masochist in you decides that enough is enough! You refuse to be intimated even if you already are intimidated!  


  
”Besides, now that I’m with _Rennie_ ,” you smile at Eren sweetly. “—I have no use for this that stuff. I feel like I’m high all the time. He’s all I need to feel _good_.”  


  
Eren blushes heavily, gripping your hand tighter and you smirk, knowing that it’ll probably be your last look of smugness before Mikasa grabs you by the haemorrhoid and flings you over the walls.  


  
”Awwww, look at these two! All loved up,” Connie beams. “—I’ll admit, I had my doubts at first but wow! You guys are so cute.” Sasha looks at him somewhat pleadingly but Connie is too busy fawning over your relationship to form his own.  


  
”They’re just the picture of romance...” Jean says, a little too sarcastically for your liking.  


  
”Yeah, we are. I’m so lucky to be the one dating Eren,” You swoon although your eyes are hard and trained on Mikasa.  


  
You’re aware that at this point, you’re digging your own grave but hey ho. At least she’ll put you out of this monogamous misery and you can go back to running trains on people in the afterlife.  


  
”—After all, I’m sure many _many_ people like him. The only thing I regret is that we didn’t meet sooner. It isn’t long before graduation and then we’re off to the scouts. I wish we could’ve made more memories before venturing off to our imminent deaths.” You sigh dramatically and Marco pats your back.  


  
His freckles are extremely endearing and act as a great distraction from Mikasa’s darkening expression.

  
At this point, you’re completely fucked and not in the way you want to be. You’re fucked in two senses, a double whammy that you doubt even a veteran hoe like you could worm your way out of:  


  
A) being that you’ve just confirmed to Eren that you reciprocate his feelings and want a long term relationship with him. It’s only a matter of time before he wants to settle down, marry you officially (hopefully with a ring that won’t hospitalise you) and have _kids_. You’ll be damned if you have to sacrifice your banging body for a bunch of snotty brats. You hope Yaeger likes Mpreg because that’s what his omega slick bitch ass is gonna get.  


  
B) being that you’ve openly antagonised the one person who is capable of violently murdering you and never suffering any consequences for it because you’re pretty sure even the cops are scared of her. Shit, you need to make sure that you don’t end up alone in a room with her because you’ve paid too much money to get your nose this straight and there’s not a chance in Hell that she’s gonna ruin it for you. Yeah, that sounds good. Just avoid Mikasa forever and don’t bring up her ugly step sibling pornhub fantasy.  


  
(You want to question yourself on what pornhub is but at this point, you accept that you’ve transcended mankind and know things that only higher beings could.)  


  
”Porn what?” Jean asks with his brows furrowed in confusion. Oh balls, did you just say that shit out aloud?  


  
”What?”  


  
”No, I’m asking you what. What did you say?”  


  
”Nothing.”  


  
”Oh,” he nods. “—Sounded like you did.”  


  
”I didn’t.”  


  
Marco interjects softly, with eyes so gentle and kindly that you almost feel sorry that he was born in this shitty ass world.  


  
Almost.  


  
You’re petty, above all else, and if you have to suffer in this stinky ass training corps then he should too.  


  
”Can I ask you a question?” He asks, voice hushed and meek. Damn, can he speak the fuck up? You can barely hear him at this point. “—Why do you want to join the Scout Regiment? I remember what you said during the entrance ceremony, about, but I thought it was a joke. It certainly made me laugh...and then you carried on saying it and talking about people from beyond the walls...why risk your life for something you’re not sure of?”  


  
Armin, presumably after growing some balls, decides to pipe up and add to Marco’s interrogation. Shit, is this how people feel when meeting their in laws? As if you didn’t have enough reasons to never get married.  


  
”Yeah. You’re great at hand to hand combat and I’ve never seen you put in much effort with the ODM gear lessons...you seem as though you’d be better suited to the military police,” He splutters worriedly at the implications of his words and you look down at your nails, wondering where you put your filer. They need a reshape.  


  
“—Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I’m not making any harsh judgement or anything, but you don’t seem to be into the nitty gritty stuff. Why would you choose the scouts when you could have a life of comfort?” Everyone perks up in interest at what you have to say.  


  
Now, there’s plenty of ways you could deal with this. You could act offended, shut him down and complain to Eren, who would most probably berate him so badly that the aryan fuckwit wouldn’t so much as look at you ever again. But that seems overly-dramatic and you have a feeling that if Eren’s other relationships deteriorate, he might cling to you harder.  


  
You could also play along and tell them some terrible sob story but hey, three of the bitches on this table are from Shiganshina—they're the ultimate sob story and you really don’t want to turn this into the oppression Olympics. You’d end up telling them some stupid story about how your bones are made of glass and your skin is made out of paper and how you break your arms every morning and then your legs every afternoon—  


  
Yeah, that sounds like a no-go. Looks like you just have to wing it because telling your ‘boyfriend’ that the only reason why you plan to join the same militia as him is because you want some immigrant dick probably won’t go down too well.  


  
”It was a joke,” You smile, stretching your cheeks to make your dimples pop charmingly. “—Although, I was a hormonal teen mess at the time. It wasn’t my reason for joining the training corps though that’s just...” _genius_ “—Ridiculous! Who would ever, ha ha, do that? Uh, I joined because I saw the Scouts walking through my town one day and I just felt inspired. I’ve always wanted to do— _be_ them. Be a part of them. Yeah so...no military police for me! I could never be a cop, fuck twelve!”  


  
Jean looks at you like you’ve grown a nipple in the middle of your brows and Mikasa doesn’t even dignify your words with a response, tugging on her crusty scarf instead. A gentle hand tucks your hair behind your ear lovingly. Well, at least Eren’s sold.  


  
”I’m really happy for you,” Armin smiles, lips curling up with a cat-like daintiness. You should’ve kissed him when you had the chance. “—It seems like you’ve always known what you want to do.” He says a little sadly. Not that you care.  


  
”Oh believe me, I have.”  


  
Jean sniggers a bit, blinking at you in disbelief.  


  
”How are both of y’all suicidal? Am I missing something here? Is there some massive orgy outside of the walls that no one told me about?” He asks in incredulity, ~~hooves~~ arms outstretched and palms pointing at you and Eren.  


  
”It’s not about suicide, Jean-boy, it’s about finding what’s out there.” You roll your eyes.  


  
If he was a virgin you wouldn’t be surprised. How does he get anyone done with that terrible attitude of his? And as for an orgy...he’d probably be sent home because no one would want to bang him.  


  
”Bitc—[Y/N] what could possibly be out there? Or who, in your case?” Oh, he’s gone and done it now. Today, you’re going give him a jaw reduction with nothing more than the spoon in your hand and slutty rage in your heart.  


  
Thank fuck for Eren’s mental instability because when he bangs his fist against the wood of the table and lurches up confrontationally, all of the attention on your prophetic (nymphomaniac) tendencies is realigned.  


  
”Shut the fuck up and stop annoying my girlfriend, horse-face!” He growls and you may or may not want to reward him with a blowie.  


  
”What the fuck are you talking about, dumbass? We were having a normal conversation. Mind your business!”  


  
”No, you weren’t! You were pissing my sweet sweet love [Y/N] off and when you piss my sweet sweet love [Y/N] off, then you’re pissing me off too!” How he even managed to get that mess of a statement out is beyond you.  


  
”Look at me,” Jean sighs dispassionately, jerking his hand about. “—I’m trembling.”  


  
”I’ll show you trembling!”  


  
Amongst all this mess with Mikasa repeating Eren’s name and trying to coax him out of his anger (did he skip his meds again?), Armin being the only genuinely trembling, Marco clutching his head and saying he’d rather be torn in two by a titan than sit on this crappy ass table for another day, Sasha grabbing food off of Eren’s tray and Connie trying to gather a crowd around the bumbling imbeciles that are your ‘boyfriend ‘ and mortal enemy—you try not to burst into laughter.  


  
“[Y/N],” Mikasa looks at you when she realises Eren won’t be backing down any time soon.  


  
For someone who works so strategically during simulation exercises, she’s acting like a complete dumbass right now. It’s obvious she’d have better luck with Jean since Eren doesn’t give a rat’s ass about her.  


  
”Huh?” You look at her with a shit-eating grin. “—Oh, right.” Dammit, you wish there were some way to document this fight and rewatch it at a later time for your enjoyment.  


  
”Eren,” You call out lamely as he grips onto Jean’s collar. Maybe it’s a sign from the universe that this fight should continue. But due to personal reasons (and the fact that you’re more afraid of Mikasa than whatever external forces may control life on Earth), you try once more.  


  
“Eren! Baby, sit down,” His eyes flicker in your direction. “—Haven’t you whooped his ass enough times? He’s not worth it.”  


  
Connie comes sprinting back to the table and frowns when he sees that all of the commotion is dying down.  


  
”Eren. Come on.” You pat his empty seat and he loosens his grip on Jean before finally sitting back down, on top of your hand. You squirm and pull out from underneath. As if you want your hand to stink of Shiganshina peasantry.  


  
”Sorry, love!” His skin is flushed, eyes flickering downwards shamefully and you try not to cackle. Hopefully, the shame will shut him up and you won’t have to listen to his shrieking for the rest of the evening.  


  
Marco excuses himself to his hole and everyone eats in silence for a while. You plan your escape skilfully, mapping blind spots that you can sneak out from. Just as you get up with the intention of ‘returning your tray’, Eren tugs on your shoulder.  


  
”Can we...hang out for a bit?” He asks, ears reddening, and you rejoice because _finally_ he’s making this worth your while.  


~

  
”Sorry about that! I didn’t mean to flip out on him! He’s just so stupid! It’s the titans fault!” He grumbles and you purse your lips in disapproval. What a loser.  


  
And then you see it. He tugs off his shirt and attempts to clamber on top of you. You tweak his nipple and he squawks in terror.  


  
_What. The. Fuck. Is. This?_

  
“Eren,” you blink rapidly, as though there’s a fat bug stuck in your eye. “Mind telling me what that is?” You point at his chest and he smiles like a cutesy little school girl.  


  
”It’s a tattoo!” His voice is so coquettish that all your arousal dies out. Did he seriously think this would make you happy?  


  
”Of my name.”  


  
”I know! Do you like it? I was thinking you could get one with my name! We could be matching!”  


  
_This has to be a joke. This has to be a fucking joke.  
_

__

  
”Ha!” You force out laughter. “—It’s kind of early for that, isn’t it?”  


__

  
”Well, we’re gonna be together for the rest of our lives so...” he trails off, positioning himself in between your legs and you scramble up, placing your hand on his shoulders.  


__

  
How he went from a smoking hot dick appointment to a stupid, clingy himbo is beyond you.  


  
That’s it. You’ve had enough. Maybe if you’re nice about it, he’ll grant you status of a sexy single babe and you’ve can go back to having unhealthy amounts of sexual relations.  


  
”Eren,” You start off as gently as you can. “—Have you ever heard of a break up? Because sometimes things don’t work out for couples and they...break _up_.”  


  
”Where are you going with his?” He purses his lips, with a cautious look in eyes.  


  
”Well...we’ve got very different aspirations...” Why the fuck did you skip so many English classes? Maybe then you’d have the vocabulary to get this over and done with. Ugh, you can just feel your third grade English teacher punching the air right now.  


  
”What’s so different about them?” He blinks innocently. You almost want Mikasa to murder you, just so you won’t have to listen to his clownery.  


  
”Eren—“  


  
”Is that what you’re doing? You don’t want me? Oh, oh my God,” he legitimately wails in despair. The sound would be funny if you were in literally any other situation. “—My poor poor mother. She always said she wanted me to find the perfect girl! In fact, they were her last words to me before a titan squeezed her dry like a packet of ketchup! I’ve failed you, mommy! I’m going to be alone forever!”  


  
He looks back at you with troubled, slightly insane eyes. You understand that, yes, he most definitely has skipped his meds.  


  
_God was right, premarital sex is the work of the devil.  
_

__

  
You decide to take the honourable approach: lying.  


__

  
”Oh, you’re gettig the wrong idea! I’m not breaking up with you, ha ha!” You smile and he straightens out in simpy glory.  


__

  
Perhaps, you should try reasoning with him. Explaining the consequences of his actions logically. Yeah, that should work, even if Eren isn’t the most logical of people.  


__

  
”...But... there’s always the chance that we might end up breaking up in the future...or-or one of us dying horribly in battle! And, well, you’ll have my name on your skin, even after I become Titan fodder. Do you really want your ex’s name—“  


__

__

__

  
”Hypothetical ex.” He corrects and you really really really wished that you had never touched those gas canisters.  


__

__

__

  
”Hypothetical ex,” you repeat, voice cracking weakly as your nervous poo poo syndrome begins to act up again. “—Do you want your hypothetical ex’s name on your skin? Tattoos are permanent, Eren.”  


__

__

__

  
He considers your words carefully, squatting like Marco does over his hole, and tapping his chin thoughtfully.  


__

__

__

  
”But if all of this is hypothetical, then why does it matter? We’re not going to break up.”  


__

__

__

  
You groan at his stupidity, questioning if he has fucking brain rot, and decide to climb on top of him.  


__

__

__

  
”Just shut up and screw me. I wanna be in bed by nine, max.”  


__

__

__

~

__

  
It’s currently ten pm and you’re not in bed.  


__

  
”A _TATTOO_!” You wail for the fourteenth time. Christa holds onto your shoulders like the wonderful emotional support lesbian she is, cooing softly.  


__

  
”You’re not making much sense, right now...” She frowns as you continue to shriek incoherently.  


__

  
Squinting at the window, you wonder the amount of time it would take for the crows to come for you, if you just lie down in the fields outside.  


__

  
”A tattoo, Christa, a tattoo!”  


__

  
”Uh, well yes. We...we know that.”  


__

  
”Christa,” you turn and look at her with mad, wide eyes. “He has a tattoo of my fucking name! Literally on his chest, where his _heart_ is! How am I gonna ditch him _no-oo-ow_?” You whine.  


__

  
She stares at you thoughtfully, the cogs in her head working and whirling. She parts her mouth, as though suddenly struck with an awe-inspiring idea. You perk up to see what she’s come up with, ears hot in anticipation.  


__

  
”Well shit then.”  


__

  
You groan, rubbing your stomach like you’re having contractions. In a way, you are giving birth. Just to the soup you ate earlier, though.  


__

  
”Exactly! I’ve been dating him for like...what...” You trail off, trying to remember how long you’ve actually been dating him for.  


__

  
”Two weeks...” Christa supplies.  


__

  
”...Two weeks! Two fucking weeks and he gets a tattoo. By next week, he’ll want to get married and in the week after, he’s gonna try to me pregnant!”  


__

  
”Can I officiate your wedding?” Ymir asks dully, taking a pair scissors to her hair and cutting it short.  


__

  
You consider it. Hm. Sure, she’s one of the worst human beings on Earth but she’s gay and having a gay person officiate your wedding would be a true power move.  


__

  
”Sure.”  


__

  
”Yay.” She continues the assault on her scalp without even glancing at you.  


__

  
Annie’s blonde tufts of hair swish as she closes the door behind her. Naturally, you decide to jump her with a desperate, wide eyed look that she no doubt finds pathetic. She blinks at you impassively, although you’re sure she wants to stick her foot up your ass for getting so close to her.  


__

  
”Annie, I’m certain that I could never love Eren. How do I get rid of him?” If she genuinely works you out of this relationship, you’ll happily be her slave for the rest of your days.  


__

  
”How disappointing.” She monotones and you frown. “—You seem frantic.”  


__

  
”Annie, he got a tattoo of my name and according to Christa, we’ve only been together for two weeks. I know that I have a fucked-up perception of romance but you have to admit, he’s doing the most!”  


__

  
”Tell her the other part.” Ymir chimes in chirpily. Of course, this psychotic bitch would find your misery entertaining.  


__

  
”Oh, yeah. He wants me to get a matching one. Look at my tits, Annie. They’re beautiful. I’ll be dammed if I have _Eren_ smeared all over them!”  


__

  
She stares at you, processing all of the information you’ve just relayed to her. You tell yourself that the wait will be worth it. Annie is smart, Annie is rational, Annie is articulate and has a proficiency for problem solving—  


__

  
”Well shit then.”  


__

  
She takes a step back in disbelief, brows subtly knotting together in a look that can only be described as _what the fuck?_  


__

  
”That’s what I said!” Christa smiles, raising her arms and shaking her head in a somewhat overly enthusiastic manner.  


__

  
”He must be really fond of you. How is Ackerman responding to this?” She asks, looking up in thought. Wow. She has _such_ pretty eyes. Maybe you should ask Eren if he’s into polygamy.  


__

  
”I’m sure she’s planned a hit on me.”  


__

  
”Hm. Go figure,” Annie hums, nodding her head carefully. “—Have you tried Christa’s approach?”  


__

  
Yikes. Just thinking about it makes your stomach lurch. How the hell does Sasha eat so much and never experience pain like this?  


__

  
”Oh, I tried alright. He looked like he gonna have fucking breakdown, the pee pee poo poo piss baby. Honesty is out of question.”  


__

  
Annie sits on her bed, nodding emphatically. She should really consider going into counselling if her military career doesn’t take off. You could see her making a pretty penny off of whiny, pathetic sex-addicts like yourself.  


__

  
”Take what I’m about to say with a grain of salt,” She begins after a long, silent moment.  


__

  
“Salt taken!”  


  
She pauses, giving you a horrified stare.  


  
”...You’re so stupid it should be considered a talent.” She rubs her temples as though simply breathing the same air as you is giving her an aneurism. “—Just don’t get offended, okay?”  


__

  
”Sure.” You nod obediently.  


__

  
”You’re rather talented at two things, from what I’ve gauged: sex and irritating the ever loving fuck out of everyone you meet. You may want to take notes.” She states matter-of-factly, waiting for you to gather your writing equipment. Naturally, you use Sasha’s since you’re pretty sure she’s illiterate anyways.  


__

  
“—So, I think your best bet is tiring Yaeger out with sex. At first, he’ll enjoy it and see it as a positive thing in your relationship because you’ll be reciprocating his feelings. I’d recommend clinging to him in the way that he does to you, even if it means spending more time with him than you’d like. From what I’ve seen, his biggest issue with Ackerman is that she overwhelms him. Her constant doting makes him uninterested in her because of two reasons. One being his pathetic sense of toxic masculinity and the other being that he feels he has no freedom. I’m certain that if you act in the same manner: consistent and lengthy amounts of time spent together, refusal to let him spend any time alone, lots of sex and not letting him get into life-threatening situations, his fondness for you will die down.”  


__

  
”He’s a teen boy, Annie. He’s not gonna get tired of banging me.” You look up from the almost, completely filled up page of your notepad.  


__

  
At this, she genuinely rolls her eyes. Folding her arms, she looks at you like you’re the scummiest, stupidest thing in existence. Which may or may not be true.  


__

  
”I’ve bunked with you since first year. You know how many people you’ve bumped uglies with right _on top of me_? I know your sex drive better than you do. Trust me when I say that no one on this Earth can compete with your evil vagina. here’s been times where you’ve gone on for so long, I thought the bed was going to break and you’d fall through it. I’ve had nightmares about your ass landing on my face. You’re sick in the head, [L/N]. Yeager won’t even be able to stand let alone chase you by the time you’re done. Just fuck him until he hates you. Period.” She finishes off with a vacant blink.  


__

  
”Well, then. That settles that.” Ymir snorts at your stunned expression.  


__

  
Truthfully, you’re unsure of how to feel. On one hand, she’s verbally assaulted you so badly that you might just cry yourself to sleep tonight. On the other hand, she’s provided you with a great game plan that won’t require much effort on your part.  


__

  
”Uh. Thanks, Annie. If you ever need anything, hit me up.” You nod, hoping that she replies with something fruity and homoerotic.  


__

  
”Just don’t talk to me ever again and we’ll be even.”  


__

__


	4. The Eren Yaeger Saga: Part 3 (it’s gonna end soon I swear)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teehee 🙈✨ it’s me with another authors note 
> 
> Sorry for the wait on this one omg I’ve been writing this chapter for ages and it went tits up so many times that in the end I had to re-write the entire thing ://
> 
> It good super long so I split it up into two parts and the next chapter is END OF THE EREN YAEGER SAGA !! Then we’re probably going to ignore him until I decide that the chronicles have come to an end because I’m sort of sick of him 
> 
> MAKE SURE YOU CHECK OUT THE NEXT CHAPTER BC THIS IS A DOUBLE UPDATE AND OTHERWISE ILL VORE YOU 
> 
> Anyways leave me kudos and comments or else ur mom gay

  
Eren’s a tough nut to crack but if anyone knows a thing or two about nuts, it’s you.  


  
As painful as it is, you start to live by Annie’s action-plan. Any chance you get at boning Eren is taken swiftly, whether it means skipping out on invaluable training, rescheduling your evening drug abuse or turning YumiKuri down when they ask you to join their anti-men protests (Oh for fucks sake, you looked so forward to egging the boy’s barracks).  


  
It takes a lot of dedication and pussy juice, but eventually you create an intricate routine of pulling him into bushes and storage closets, even sneaking him into the girl’s barracks once or twice (Annie, being the real hood bitch she is didn’t snitch on you) and with each nut you share with him, the sweet taste of a breakup only grows stronger on your tongue.  


  
”Oopie _canoopie_!” Eren wails into your ear as hump the ever-loving shit out of him.  


  
The more sex you have with him, the more you learn about his body and it’s instincts—the way it writhes and wriggles and reacts to your every touch. One particularly weird mannerism is the way he spews absolute fucking gibberish when he’s _balls deep_ inside of you and about to ‘noogly nut’ as he so poetically puts it.  


  
_Oopie canoopie...that’s barz though..._ You ask yourself as you bend your spine forward like a cat spitting out a hairball.  


  
However, aside from his flaws, Eren has proven him to be a fairly good fuck. He’s a fast learner and is attentive to your needs. He makes an effort to understand what gets you going and doesn’t (to this day, he claims that your asshole bit him when he put it in the wrong hole). He asks questions and isn’t afraid to try you new things—all in all being one of the better sexual partners you’ve had.  


  
”Who does this dick belong to?”  


  
”You, mommy!”  


  
You know what, maybe not. He’s developed a habit of a calling you some rather disturbing names and you begin to think Armin was right about the Oedipus Complex thing.  


  
_If I was your mommy you’d be nothing more than backstreet abortion, you cretin._  


  
”That’s right.” He shudders as you work your magic.  


  
Swooping down, you give him a kiss purely to shut him up because you’re genuinely confused as to whether it’s blood in your ears or sweat. The amount of times that you’ve stumbled into the infirmary with ruptured eardrums because of his shrieking is too high to count and contrary to the rumours, there isn’t a single naughty nurse who works there. Only sixty-year old Brenda who you’re sure abuses small children for fun.  


  
You cuddle him, going against every slutty moral fibre in your body, and sigh in what you hope resembles contentment but is probably is the strangled sound that comes out after taking a piss that you’ve held in for a long time.  


  
”That was amazing...” He trails off, voice a little raspy from all of his shouting and you consider yourself blessed. Hopefully, he’ll get tonsillitis next and you’ll be able to really get a taste of peace and quiet.  


  
You squeeze him harder, rubbing your face against his chest and trying not to barf all over him because this all too mushy and gross and, really, you should be gone by now and scouting for your next victim. In a subtle show of adoration, he pushes his long ass fingernails into your arm and clutches you tighter. Ouch. What the hell is he trying to do here? Harvest your bone marrow?  


  
”I know. Let’s go again.” You propose eagerly, climbing on top of him and he stills your movements by placing his hands on your shoulders. At least your bone marrow is safe now.  


  
It’s a win for you but a tragic, tragic loss for the black market.  


  
”Uh...again?”  


  
”Yeah. Again.” You reaffirm, trying not to cackle at the bewildered look on his face. For a moment, you swear that his dick trembles in fear.  


  
”We just finished fucking ten seconds ago!”  


  
”Did we? Did we truly?”  


  
”Yes!”  


  
”Well,” You begin with a petulant side eye. “—I didn’t take you for a quitter.”  


  
”I’m not! I’ll destroy the Titans and avenge my Mother! Carla Yeager will not go unavenged,” He wiggles his pruned up, depressed looking finger. “—And I’m sensitive as fuck, can you please just give me a few minutes?” His voice is slightly harsh, probably the sort of tone that would make Mikasa cry herself to sleep and save her tears to use them as lube for her next sad fapping session.  


  
But this voice, for you, is special. It makes you all the more determined to queef all over your relationship.  


  
”I just...luh-love you, Eren. I...can’t get enough of you? Yeah, that’s it. I can’t get enough of you.” You bury your face in his chest so he doesn’t have to look at your constipated face. You tell yourself to say something from the heart so it’s a believable performance. “— You’re awesome at dicking me down.”  


  
Yeah. That sounds perfect.  


  
”—Seriously good. If the angry Titan killing thing doesn’t work out, you should take up prostitution.” He murmurs that he loves you too and will take your advice into consideration, placing a sweet kiss on your temple.  


  
He shuffles a little, pulling you closer to his chest and pepperoni nipples poking you in the eye. You have to bite back a sound of shock when you realise that his man-boobs are better and bigger than your own pair.  


  
_Perky as fuck and for what? Is it just me or do they feel kinda...siliconey?_  


  
Eren pulls you from your thoughts when he gasps, loud and abrupt and fearful.  


  
”Shit, weren’t we on dish washing duty? Shadis is gonna have our asses!” He cranes his head down at you with psychotic, huge eyes. His obese nipple rubs against your face once more.  


  
_To think that the kitchens keep serving us dry cereal. All when there’s a perfectly good pair of udders right here. This world is so sick and twisted. I want to die._  


  
”Well, damn Tits McGee. I had no idea you were so passionate about dish washing.” He gives you a funny look but only presses on, squashing you further into his bosom.  


  
”I’m being serious! He’s gonna put us on latrine duty if he finds out that we didn’t show up!”  


  
As riveting as this conversation is, something tells you that it needs to steered into a different direction. Most likely one that involves your terribly unhealthy relationship with Eren.  


  
”Eren, my sweet beloved... love...” Yikes. If that isn’t a shitty start, you don’t know what is. “—I’m already on latrine duty. It doesn’t affect me but if you’d rather go and wash some dirty dishes than spend time with me...my love...I can’t stop you. I do, however, propose that we stay and...make love to each other. I really love you, Eren, have I told you that? I just want to make love to you and avenge your mother all day long.”  


  
You try not to have a stroke and, instead, bat your eyelashes.  


  
He looks torn, face scrunching up in thought but his fingers intertwine with you. You curse your fat, Godly pussy. Why is it so good? Why is it so juicy? Why is it so iconic? You were a fool to believe that he’d ever leave you.  


  
”Come on, Eren, my sweet sweet love. I want to hang out with you. You’re my first boyfriend and the first guy that I’ve ever loved...” You point to the tattoo on your right tit.  


  
Ha ha ha, it’s definitely real and not written with an old sharpie that you sniff when the ODM gear is locked up and inaccessible.  


  
”—How can we destroy the titans if we don’t improve on our team work, Eren? On our synchrony? On our stamina and endurance? Don’t you want to defeat them? They say sex is the best exercise.” You cling to him. He looks at you in an epic combination of terror and affection.  


  
”Who’s they?”  


  
”Uh...” You give him a look because how the fuck are you supposed to know? You’re a full time hoe and part time cadet, not a Scientologist or whatever they’re called. “—I’ll send the article to you, later. Come on, Eren. For me.”  


  
_Please say no. Please say no. Please say no. Please show some character growth and say no—_  


  
You try to make your voice as whiny as possible, which sadly isn’t all that difficult given what a whiny ass rat you are to begin with.  


  
”Fuck it,” He gives in. “—At least, we’ll be on latrine duty together! Anything for you, my little titanphobe!”  


  
_Oh balls._

  
“Twinsies...” You laugh weakly as he brings you in for a hug.  


  
You’re unsure of what you should’ve kept shut first: your legs or your mouth.  


~

  
”This isn’t getting anywhere! He’s not getting angry with me! Didn’t he have, like, seven rounds of failed therapy growing up? Where have his untreated anger issues gone now, or did my obese pussy suck them out of him?” You roll your eyes whilst trudging through the woods.  


  
It’s summer and today’s training has been wrapped up so, naturally, everyone’s decided to take a trip to nearest lake and get bitten on the ass by various marine creatures.  


  
”You...are a dirty bitch.” Ymir scoffs and Sasha nods in agreement.  


  
“I’m being serious. All I do is spend time with him and still he’s not sick of me yet!” You lament, slapping your hand on your forehead and trying not to wince because it would make Ymir laugh and the last thing you want to do is make her happy.  


  
”Oh no, it’s almost like he’s in love with you and genuinely enjoys your company.”  


  
”Exactly!” You exclaim and Ymir cranes her head backwards in direction of the walls, looking at the sky longingly.  


  
”Stop thinking about scaling the walls and jumping off of them,” Christa bonks her on the head as hops up on her little midget legs. Her thighs look thiccer than snicker in her swimming shorts.  


  
She really is the most perfect person you’ve ever seen, second to yourself of course.  


  
”If you’re gonna domestically abuse her, please do it with enthusiasm.” You comment dryly and swear that Ymir leans forward to _bite_ you. She’s probably the most feral thing you’ve ever encountered and you had a rabid pet raccoon growing up.  


  
Rip, miss andwrist—you’ll never be forgotten.  


  
”Oh stop it, you,” Christa chirps and you hope that when you are inevitably sent to jail (either for assault, tax evasion or flashing the cops at pride, you’ve surmised) that your cell-mate is just like her. It would make the jail experience a lot more pleasant.  


  
“—Annie told you that it’s going to be a while before _Erica_ gives in.” She winks, using the code name that you all agreed on using but no one really uses.  


  
”I know, Christa, but I want to get this over and done with. He’s so patient with me. I hate it. If I was Mikasa, he’d would mauled me by now.” You huff, crossing your arms over one another.  


  
”If you were Mikasa, you wouldn’t gotten this far with him to begin with.” Sasha quips, steadying the spear and fifteen piece fishing kit she insisted on bringing with her. 

  
Christa laughs lowly at her attempt at wisdom but Ymir nods vehemently as though listening to the gospel.  


  
”And that’s period.” Ymir agrees, saying some other things and you don’t bother listening because Eren and his cronies (minus Mikasa? That’s weird) come into sight.  


  
Luckily, they don’t seem to notice you, which is also weird because you’re somewhat convinced Eren lodged a tracking device up your cooch the last time you boned. It sounds an awful lot like metal down there for some weird reason.  


  
You approach the lake and watch the bodies of your fellow cadets dive into the lake, squealing like pigs in a slaughter house luv x. The amount of nip slips and butt jiggles they’re serving you right now is absurd and you can’t tell if it’s communist spirit or stupidity.  


  
They should’ve known better than to invite you and share the sight of their cheeks. Now they’ve given you free jack off material and there’s no way they can collectively beat you for it like last time.  


  
_Another addition to the wank bank...we love to see it!_

  
You catch sight of a thick, muscular ass with slight puncture marks in the centre of each cheek. Scrump-diddly-umptious, if you do say so yourself.  


  
It’s not cheating if Eren doesn’t find out and besides, you don’t plan on fucking him. Reiner’s a friend and you haven’t spoken to him in a while. You just want to have a little friendly conversation, reminisce about old times and discuss your plans for the future and, maybe, go for a quick pegging if he wants to—  


  
”No. Keep it chaste, you stupid bitch.” You murmur to yourself as you approach him.  


  
Oh shit. As you get closer and closer Reiner, you notice Bertolt’s joining him and they’re _both_ shirtless! You catch sight of Bert’s donkey dick—which has been the talk of the town for a while. Word is, it’s so big that during hand to hand combat training, it swung around and clobbered Armin in the head. He had to spend four weeks in the infirmary in a medically induced coma.  


  
You’ve also surmised that Reiner’s got length too, judging from the extensive research you’ve conducted on his genital region. This is brazzers threesome fantasy you’ve always dreamed about!  


  
”No. Stop. Not until you’ve dealt with Eren.” You chide yourself, wanting to nosedive into the lake and put yourself out of your misery.  


  
How could Eren deprive you of such a top tier dicking? It’s such a shame that he burst into tears when you asked him about what he thought of open relationships. Kept on talking about how there was no way his parents had ever been in one with an alcoholic named Hannes. Whatever.  


  
_Nice and casual. Nice and casual. Nice and casual. Nice and casual—_  


  
”Whoa. Who’s this babe, Bert?” Reiner squints at you just as you’re about to say hi. Bertolt lowers his eyes uncomfortably.  


  
”This... _nice lady_ would be [Y/N].” He clutches the cross around his neck, probably praying for Reiner’s shitty eyesight.  


  
Reiner’s genuinely so blind, you’re unsure of how he even read the application form for the military let alone actually managing to enlist and train in it. There’s talk of politicians working to create a law that effectively bans Reiner from using ODM gear (or operate heavy machinery) because he’s killed around twelve people in head collisions by now. All because he claims glasses make his head look big.  


  
Well. You can respect his self-awareness.  


  
_Regardless_ , you refuse to die because his retina is so buffed up from steroids that he can’t even see through them. If you ever got placed on the same squad as him, you’d probably desert the military and spend your days in a cave hiding from law enforcement because his useless eyeballs would kill you before the Titans ever could.  


  
_Aw. What a classic gym lad._  


  
”Hey Rein, hey Bertie.” You smile like a Class A hoe. The ratio for a perfect slutty smile is one part flirtatiousness and one part cuteness—that way you don’t overwhelm anyone. With a face like yours, people often get intimidated.  


  
Not that it matters when you’re talking to Reiner’s blind ass because he probably doesn’t even know what you look like to begin with.  


  
”Hey babygirl,” he responds greasily as usual.  


  
”Blessings be.” Bert, the fucking extremist Christian murmurs. You’re not exactly sure when but at some point during training he found God and now swears to rid the Earth of titans and abortion clinics.  


  
What is he even doing here if he’s not going to look at your hot body? He should’ve stayed in the barracks if he was gonna be like this. Such a waste of a big fat moose cock.  


  
“Look at you boys,” Reiner squints harder with the sun in his eyes. “—You both look so good. Those ‘roids are really working for you, Rein.” You subtly tap his ass to demonstrate your point.  


  
”Do not lust in your heart or look upon her beauty—“ Bertie begins his Ted talk on why premarital sex is bad but Reiner is quick to shut his ass up.  


  
”Shut your ass up, Bert,” He rolls his useless eyeballs and gets closer to you. “—Ha ha, so...you like the ‘roids, babe?”  


  
”Yeah, I like them.”  


  
“Yeah?”  


  
”Yeah.”  


  
Bertolt starts to shake his head, murmuring something about how Christ shouldn’t have had to die for such a bunch of lecherous, immoral ass eaters and you kinda agree. Weird as Bertie is, he do be spitting doe.  


  
”Listen, erm, I know that you’re with Yaeger and you’re, uh, Eldian scum and all but if you if you wanna go somewhere a little more private then I’m down—“ He propositions and you almost fling your panties into the air.  


  
About time. You’re so sick of fucking Eren. At this point, you feel like his dick is a part of your own body and you’re a pair of freaky conjoined twins or something.  


  
”Reiner, babe,” You cut him off, face blank and eyes hard. “—I’m going impregnate you.” To which he giggles girlishly. Bertolt splutters in disbelief. What a killjoy.  


  
”Thou shalt not commit adultery. That’s one of the most fundamental aspects of the Lord’s revelation, a pivotal part of the Ten Commandments! The penalty is not light—“ Bertie begins and you tell him to either join in or shut his ass up. Your clit isn’t gonna rub itself.  


  
”Lead the way then, M’lady.” Reiner gestures to the woodland that you just spent the last twenty minutes trudging through and offers you a beefy arm. It’s too long of a walk to the barracks so you figure that you’ll just have to settle for a nice bush to rearrange Reiner’s guts in.  


  
Good thing you brought your emergency strap-on with you today. The last thing you’d want is to do is borrow Ymir’s. Who knows what lezzy germs are on that thing?  


  
”Gladly, M’side piece.” You begin your journey to an actually enjoyable orgasm.  


  
And because you’re terribly unlucky and Bertolt probably snitched on you to God, your sexcapades are interrupted by some random ass cadet’s screaming.  


  
” _Shit_! Yaeger’s drowning!”  


  
Of course, it has to be him. Fuckin’ Yaeger.  


  
Reiner stops in his tracks and looks back at the lake, where Eren is weakly thrashing about underneath the waters.  


  
”What the hell? I don’t think he’s breathing.” He squints so hard that his eyes are borderline shut. Reiner really needs to put down those steroids and pick up some glasses.  


  
Even in death, Eren’s a fucking cockblock. Sighing desperately, you grab Reiner by the shoulders and try to push him into the trees.  


  
”True story, Eren said that if in the event that he dies suddenly, you should be the one to take care of all of my sexual needs. We should honour him. C’mon.” Sadly, those steroids have worked a little too well and despite your efforts, Reiner doesn’t move an inch.  


  
”No, I don’t think he’s breathing.” He repeats, eyes trained on Eren’s spasming body.  


  
_Say sike right now. How is he even seeing this shit? What happened to his ocular impairment?_  


  
”[Y/N],” Christa calls your name out, arms flailing wildly. “—Get him out of the water! He’s drowning!”  


  
You push at Reiner with more urgency but the stupid lug doesn’t seem to get the message, more concerned about whether Eren’s going to make it or not.  


  
”Drowning—what’s that got to do with me? I’m busy, Christa!”  


  
”You know how to swim! The rest of us don’t, hurry up! Get over here!”  


  
”I don’t know how to swim and I don’t appreciate you spreading misinformation about me,” You roll your eyes and snap your head back to the dumb blind blond next to you. “—Reiner, we’re losing valuable titty fuck time here.”  


  
You try a new approach and take his hand in your own, trying to lead him to the bush with the smallest chance of giving you bacterial vaginosis.  


  
”[Y/N], he’s going to die!” She gestures to the lake and damn, it really looks like he is. Well, if he couldn’t swim then he shouldn’t have ever gone into the water. He was the one caught slipping—not you—so why do you have to suffer it?  


”Is that such a bad thing?” You raise your hands weakly in defence. Crossing her arms, she sternly points a finger at the lake and Eren, who seems to have completely slipped under the water.  


  
In all fairness, if Eren kicks the bucket now you’re free to have as many sleazy hookups as you like. It’s not like you won’t miss him completely. The guy gives great back massages and can braid hair really well. You’ll be sure to attend his funeral in your finest little black dress as soon as you’re done with Reiner.  


  
Christa, unfortunately, has other plans for you.  


  
”[Y/N] [L/N], you better march your butt up to that lake and save your boyfriend’s life right now! Letting him drown is same as murdering him and I did not raise a _murderer_!”  


  
”You didn’t raise me at all!”  


  
” _NOW_!” She shrills and you huff petulantly, giving Reiner an apologetic glance. He nods, with a knowing expression, before returning back to his place with Bertolt on the sidelines.  


  
You’re almost certain he’s getting a wonderfully Christian lecture on the pleasures of the flesh, right now.  


  
_Cocktease._  


  
With the speed of crackhead running from the cops, you sprint towards the lake and jump into the water with incredible form. The landing probably could’ve been better but you’re somewhat out of practise. Working your way through the waves, you fish Eren out of the water and lay him flat on the grassy bank.  


  
Seriously, there’s probably fifty other people here. Why were they just watching him? At least you had a reason to ignore him, you were preoccupied! The rest of them weren’t doing shit all but we’re still willing to let him drown. What a bunch of snakes. You make a mental note to rat on them to Mikasa.  


  
_No one else could swim? It’s almost like those convenient, unfathomable situations in badly written fanfics to move the plot forward._ You surmise, whilst brushing the sopping hair out of Eren’s eyes.  
  


  
”Eren, you there?” You slap his cheek somewhat awkwardly. He doesn’t respond.  


  
_Is he...dead?_  


  
”Eren? Can you hear me?” A cold sort of fear fills you upon his silence.  


  
_I think he’s dead._  


  
”Eren?”  


  
_I’m gonna be expected to give a speech at his funeral, aren’t I? Oh balls. Okay, I take it back rise and shine, bitch, get up!_  


  
Suddenly, his eyes jerk open and he begins to choke out the water lodged in his lungs. Little puddles form around his dripping form, his eyes bulging and lips quivering.  


  
_It’s alive! Hurray!_  


  
”You...you saved me...” He rasps, with a hooded, weak look.  


  
His expression is unexpectedly unreadable. Eren’s the type of guy who you can tell needs a shit from how high his eyebrows are raised. He’s obvious, everything he does and feels and speaks is obvious  


Except for now.  


  
Why can’t you understand him, now that you’ve recovered him from the brink of death? It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t feel right.  


  
It’s probably because he almost died. He’s in shock, he’s processing what’s happened. It has to be that. You don’t know what else it could be.  


  
”Yup.” You pop the ‘p’ at the end, giving a nonchalant shrug.  


  
Yikes, he’s probably gonna propose now. Any moment now, he’s gonna pull out a ring made of seaweed and fish scales. Maybe it’s time to throw in the towel and just accept that you’re Mrs Eren Yaeger. Maybe giving up is your best option. It can’t be all that bad. At least your mother in law’s dead so you don’t have to worry about her bitching at you.  


  
”Are you fucking _serious_?”  


  
He barks loudly and you blink in shock.

  
”Huh?” To which he rolls his eyes and begins to explain. Ew, his breath stinks of river water and you have to resist the urge to shield your nose with your palm.  


  
“I was having a competition with Jean! We were seeing who could hold their breath under water the longest and I almost won, no thanks to you! You ruined everything! I bet you’re pleased with your little rescue mission though, right? ” He shrieks, serving you such an exquisite form of childhood trauma that you’ve named it ‘The Shiganshina Special’.  


  
Peering over at the lake, you watch Jean stick his head out of the water like the pathetic seahorse that he is, grinning at his victory. Eren groans in annoyance and when you look back at him, the revelation—the epiphany—hits you.  


  
_“Consistent and blah blah blah time spent together, refusal to blah him spend any blah blah blah blah blah sex and not letting him get into life-threatening situations blah blah blah...his fondness for you will die down.”  
_

__

__

_  
_ Annie’s words come back to you all at once and you resist the urge to yelp in excitement when Eren bares his teeth at you like some mangy dog that chases people for fun.  


  
”Eren,” you begin passionately. “—You could’ve died! That wasn’t responsible of you at all and you should be glad that I was there to save you. You would’ve died without me! Really. You were absolutely helpless with no way of helping yourself whatsoever!”  


  
That’s right. You’ve been so focused on fucking him that you forgot to emasculate him!  


  
He bellows intelligibly before pointing an accusatory finger at you. Everyone is watching the two of you in interest, eyes wide and ears perked up. Tensions are high, no thanks to Connie, who you’re just shouted out ‘worldstarrr’ in an attempt to instigate a domestic between piss baby Yaeger and you.  


  
”I don’t need your help! You’re not my fucking mom and you’re not fucking Mikasa so stop fucking acting like it! I can take care of myself so stay out of my fucking way!”  


  
Ugh, here we go again with the mommy issues. No range. No versatility. The same old shit, time and time and time again. Can he switch it up and talk about his dad for once? An abusive grandparent maybe? A judgemental aunt? A snitch cousin?  


  
”Yeah, but—“  


  
He doesn’t allow you to finish, picking himself up and storming past you, presumably on his way back to camp.  


  
Most people have lost interest in your shitty little domestic by now because, truthfully, Eren is always on the cusp of having a mental breakdown like the little sad bitch baby worm he is.

  
Collectively, everyone decides to pack up and get back to the barracks before Shadis comes to the conclusion that the latrines are dirty and in need of a good communal clean. It’s painful, but you watch Reiner and Bertolt pull on their shirts and begin their trek through the trees.  


  
_I’ll get you one day, Reiner, and when I do...I’ll tear that ass up._  


  
Your circle of bitches call you distantly, Christa scolding you for your lack of moral compass and Sasha questioning what even happened because she was too busy killing off the walls’ entire marine population. You can only stare at the lake.  


  
There’s a strange calmness that washes over you as you watch it’s calm waves roll over one another, systematically and methodically and beautifully, remembering how Eren thrashed about underneath them. You were so close to getting rid of his ass.  


  
”Christa, my little humanitarian queen, I could kiss you right now!” You speak at last. 

  
”But you won’t.” Ymir chimes in, wrapping a protective hand around her hostage/girlfriend/best friend.  


  
You don’t even have it in you to give a snarky, senseless reply—too blissed out from what just transpired minutes ago.  


  
”What’d I miss?” Sasha comes trailing of the water with a weirdly big bag of fish behind her. Who the fuck does she think she is? Aquaman?  


  
”Eren got pissed off and screamed at [Y/N] in front of everyone.” Ymir sums it up in her usual mean monotone, arms still wrapped around a blushing Christa. Stockholm syndrome is all you have to say.  


  
”What? Receipts or didn’t happen.” She turns to face you with a beaming, curious smile. She stinks like fish and general hill-billyness but for once you don’t feel the need comment on it.  


  
”No, it happened.” You reaffirm, a fat smile on your cheeks when thinking about how Eren had spazzed out on you.  


  
_If God hates gays then why do we keep winning?_  


~

  
Eren’s fanclub really have something against substance abuse.  


  
”Mikasa, Armin! What brings you here?” You breathe out some smoke, creating a shape that looks suspiciously like your labia.  


  
Ackerman towers over you, where Arlert keeps a distance. Her eyes are narrowed and her face is stoic as she outstretches a menacingly dainty hand. You try not flinch but can’t help it since she’s literally the 104th’s resident _serial killer_ and you fit her MO perfectly. Your stomach grumbles a little nervously and she picks up on it, a faint smirk playing on her lips.  


  
“Let me have a hit.” She demands and you make a sound of confusion. What the fuck? She marched over here like that because she wanted some kush?  


  
You almost feel let down about the fact that she didn’t brutally murder you, given all the suspense she’s just built but hand it over anyway.  


  
”You smoke?” Her eyes slide up from the blunt to you, before taking in a deep, steady inhale. She blows it out through her nose, slowly and meticulously and you wonder how she hasn’t burned her nostril hairs off.  


  
_She’s like a sexy Asian dragon_. You cringe immediately after thinking that because what in the ever loving fuck did it mean?  


  
_It’s all Jeans fault._ You surmise bitterly. Spending time with that Equus has only corrupted your pure, beautiful soul. He truly is one rotten apple.  


  
”When the occasion calls for it.” She tugs her scarf closer to her and you swear that a flea jumps out of it. Just looking at that thing makes your ass itch. No wonder Eren ghosts her so much.  


  
”What’s the occasion?”  


  
”The inevitable collapse of your relationship with Eren.”  


  
”The inevitable what of the what?” You narrow your eyes and Armin laughs a little at your expression. You flinch, having forgotten that he was still here.  


  
”Well,” The blond interjects, taking a seat opposite you and next to Mikasa. “—We’ve noticed that you’re not particularly happy with Eren so we’d like to lend our services. Help break you up, if you will.” He smiles, small and sweet. You raise a brow critically.  


“Uh, okay. Mikasa can I have that back now?” You gesture towards your precious blunt with grin. “—I took out loan to buy that thing. It would be nice if I could smoke it, too.”  


  
She looks at you carefully, silently, and you can’t help but shiver. This creepy bitch is a total hog. She’s had that blunt in her mouth for the last minute and doesn’t look one bit high. Not even a single bit and this blunt is _laced_.  


  
Hange cooked it up specially for you since you’re her number one customer—a cocaine and cannabis hybrid that she cleverly named ‘cannabis’. It’s a shame that you can’t even experience it’s gloriousness because Jean’s waifu wants to do chimney roleplay and blow it out of every hole on her body.  


  
After taking an especially long puff, she hands it back to you. Petty bitch. If she wasn’t so strong and terrifying, you’d give her a piece of your mind.  


” _Thanks_ ,” You roll your eyes. Not too much, though, you don’t want to piss her off. “—Now, what makes you think I want to break up with Eren in the first place? I’d say we’re good together.”  


  
”You tried to cheat on him while he was dying in a cold, vast lake.” Armin deadpans with a frown.  


  
”And I would’ve gotten away with it, if it wasn’t for those meddling kids!” You take a moderately sized hit. “—But aside from that, we’re good. Sure, he hasn’t spoken to me in a couple days but he’ll get over it soon. It’s normal.”  


  
Now, it’s not as though you want to be with Eren. You really don’t and if you have to go one more day without dicking Reiner down, you might just have a psychotic break. However, you don’t trust the fact that your boyfriend’s best friends are offering to help sabotage your relationship. Something is fishy about this and you intend to get to the bottom of it before saying anything that might implicate you.  


  
”It’s been three weeks. He literally won’t go near you. He intentionally jumped out of a tree yesterday because you were partnered together during ODM practise. How is that normal?” Mikasa massages her ugly ass scarf with the most pompous air imaginable as she tells you things that you _already fucking know.  
_

__

  
”Normal for _us_ , Ackerman. What I want to know is why you’d even approach me about this. Let’s say, hypothetically, that you’re right about this and we’re incredibly toxic together and ill-suited and he’s destroying my attempts at pegging various men within the corps. What the hell has it got to do with you?”  


__

  
They look at each other, Armin dumbfounded and Mikasa disgusted, before sliding their eyes back onto you. The experience reminds you an awful lot of when your parents used to catch you making your dolls hump each other as a kid. Really takes you back to the way they mysteriously became pro-choice after your birth.  


__

  
_Good times. This weed is really tasty._  


__

  
“Was that a joke?” Armin asks. Mikasa glowers. You giggle because your blunt is probably laced with around forty-three harmful chemical substances and probably isn’t FDA approved.  


__

  
”Wake up,” She taps you lightly on the head and your vision spins. What the fuck? It feels like she gave you brain damage. “—We’re being serious, right now.”  


__

  
“Bitch, did you just _concuss_ me? What the hell is wrong with you? I hope you like medical bills because you’re sure as hell gonna be paying mine.”  


__

  
”Listen to me clearly, you stupid cock-wrangler,” She grits out, pulling you closer by the collar, nose to nose and only inches apart. 

  
”No! Git your ass off of me!”  


  
“— _Listen_. I know how this looks. I can’t blame you for asking questions and being distrustful of us but you need to know that it was either this or getting your head blown off with a bazooka and, believe me, the only reason why we didn’t go for the second option is because blood makes Armin squeamish. You and Eren are terrible together. Don’t deny it. We all know that you hate him and you’ve been looking for away to worm yourself out this situation since the day you got in it. Hell, I can’t tell what the fuck he sees in a dumbass like you but if I have to hear about how your pussy feels like a hot pocket one more time I’m gonna lose my fucking mind! Now, are you in or are you out?”  


__

  
_Did I just pee on myself?  
_

__

__

__

  
Sure, Mikasa is scary. But you’re high and an absolute bad bitch. It’ll take more than a few threats to sober you up. Mustering up all the courage you have, you grab her by the collar and pull in her close.  


__

__

__

  
”Say less. I’m in. All I want to know is how y’all plan on breaking us up because I’ve tried just about everything to get him off my dick and nothing works! You don’t know what I’ve been through because of your psycho little brother and, let me tell you, I expect compensation! Money, Mikasa. Guala. Pay _ment_. He chased me around the entire barracks because he thought us hooking up meant we’re married! He steals my panties and wears them to feel ‘closer to me’! He has a voodoo doll made out of leg hair he pulled from my shaving razor in case I ever break his heart! He calls me _Mommy_ in bed and, bitch, that’s not even his worst kink! You try getting off when someone’s grunting about how they wanna fuck you on the wall—purely so all the Titans can see. It’s _gross_!” You sigh, flinging your head back dramatically.  


__

__

__

  
”— I’ve had to bang him eight times within the last two days. Like _hello_ , how does he have any nut left in his balls? He’s hung but it’s not even fun anymore! This plan better be cunty or else I’m gonna end up being your sister in law, Mika. I’ll be seeing you at the next family reunion!” Her eye twitches as you finish up your deranged rant. Whether it’s at the nickname or the fact that her entire family is dead is unknown to you.  


__

  
Sensing the tension growing between the two of you, your aryan king Armin clears his throat.  


__

__

__

  
“Come on girls, let’s not fight,” Armin cuts in, most likely to prevent Mikasa from voring you here and now. “ [Y/N], we wouldn’t approach you unless we had a solid way of sabotaging your relationship.”  


__

  
”And what would that be?” You growl as you and Mikasa both give him the side eye, although making no move to let each other go.  


__

  
”It’s just that, uh—can you guys sit down? This is awkward. I feel like you’re gonna start scissoring, the sexual tension is killing me! ” He huffs, fingers twiddling around nervously. Normally, you’d ask him if he’d like to join but Mikasa’s soured your mood too much.  


__

  
When Eren’s not ruining your chances of getting crunk, his stinky little friends do the job for him instead. You’ve got a good mind to walk up to Shiganshina with a bottle of PVA glue and seal that hole yourself if it’ll send these fuckers home.  


__

  
Mikasa hums before letting go of your collar and flinging you backwards. It feels as though she’s crippled you and you briefly consider applying for a disability allowance. Wisps of smoke and the mangled body of your precious roll-up is enough to bring you back to reality. You brush it off and plop it back into your mouth.  


__

  
Armin takes it as an opportunity to explain his plan.  


__

  
”We couldn’t help but notice what a little bitch Eren’s been since you saved him, thank you for by the way,” You shrug in response, face still stuck in an wide scowl. It was nothing and you kinda wish you let him die anyways.  


__

__

__

  
“—So we thought that we’d exploit it. Set up another scenario that somewhat endangers or at the very least, humiliates him. By saving him once more, keeping in mind that you’re already on bad terms with him, I’ve calculated that there’s ninety-eight percent chance that he’ll end things with you.”  


__

__

__

  
”I can’t count past six, is that a lot?”  


__

__

__

  
”A...fairly high amount, yes.” He hums, but his face says it all. Disappointing Armin is actually a surprising achievement for you since he literally expects nothing from you in the first place. You celebrate it by taking another hit.  


__

__

__

  
_My mind...it amazes me._

__

__

__

  
You sit and ruminate over the information that they’ve—well, Armin has given you. All Mikasa did was waste your weed and be useless.  


__

__

__

  
It would be a shame if someone called immigration and she got deported. A real, real shame.  


__

__

__

  
”What if it doesn’t work?” You ask curiously. “—What do I do then?”  


__

__

__

  
Armin laughs. It’s cute at first, until you realise that he’s pointing his finger at you and Mikasa the mangy bitch is joining in too.  


__

__

__

  
”Oh my Goodness, did you hear that?” His eyes water as he breaks into a breathless wheeze. Mikasa nods in response, chucking lowly from behind her scarf.  


__

  
“I did!”  


__

  
You stub out your roll-up, unimpressed and rather bored. You’re also hungry now so it would be nice to wrap this all up and get to the canteen before Sasha raids it.  


__

  
”Can someone tell me what the joke is, or is it exclusive to ratty little orphans?” The insult lacks your usual snappiness as you wonder what the kitchens are serving.  


__

  
It’s four days till taco Tuesday so you already know everything they’re gonna serve before it’s gonna taste like ass. Not even the good kind.  


__

  
“You said that—you asked if...if it wouldn’t work,” Armin collects himself, wiping at this teary eyes. Mikasa’s calmed down by now, tugging her scarf higher and near her chin.  


__

  
”So?” You raise your brows inelegantly, desperate to get to the kitchens. Just because they’re used to starving it doesn’t mean you are.  


__

  
”Because, [Y/N], when I plan something, it’s going to work.” Armin smiles, his voice silky and confident. There’s something distinctly less twink-like about him.  


__

  
It makes you want to trust him and bang him, simultaneously.  


__

~

__

  
Today, as advised by Armin, you’re gonna annoy Eren. It’s a sort of warm up, before the actual plan takes place, in order to ensure that he stays angry at you. The last thing you need is for him to be in good spirits while trying to get him to violently piss all over your relationship.  


__

  
Everything is in place, the date is set and enough people have agreed to take part. Turns out, not many people like Eren and claim that he’s a raging lunatic who makes everything about himself and his childhood trauma. Not sure what that’s all about but hey ho.  


__

  
”Eren? Eren, I think we need to talk.” You smile, remembering to repeat his name as many times as possible. It really is annoying, even to you and you’re the one saying it.  


__

__

__

  
He responds with silence.  


__

__

__

  
”Eren, my darling,” You drape yourself over his back and wrap your arms around his thick neck. He huffs childishly and a suddenly urge to tackle him into the ground and murder him overcomes you.  


__

__

__

  
_Strangling people is a crime. Strangling people will send you jail. Jail is bad because you’re too pretty to go there. They’d eat your ass up in seconds. You’d be someone’s bitch._  


__

__

__

  
“Eren, this has gone on long enough. We need to talk this out. Unless...you want to break up with me?” You ask, trying not to sound hopeful and instead, somewhat worried.  


__

  
Thank God for that improv acting class you won in that raffle last summer. Well, truth be told, Sasha won it. You just borrowed the ticket without asking her and graciously accepted the prize on her behalf.  


__

  
”No! What the hell, man? Why would you even ask that?” He yells and immediately you miss the silent treatment.  


__

__

__

  
_Lord if you love me...give him the Hellen Keller treatment..._  


__

__

__

  
He turns to face you, eyebrows furrowed in a really unhealthy looking amount of rage that needs to be addressed through extensive therapy. You shrug.  


__

__

__

  
”Well, Eren, do you blame me? You’ve been ignoring me for a whole ass three weeks. It’s been—“ _Lovely_ “—Lonely without you. I thought that you fell out of love with me or something. Not that I want you to, ha ha.”  


__

  
Somehow this manages to make him even angrier. You’re convinced that regular therapy wouldn’t work on him and that he’d need something more advanced. If only there was such thing as a chair that shocked people when they sat in it. That would be great for Eren.  


__

__

__

  
”Of course not! I love you but I’m angry! I don’t have anything to say to you!”  


__

  
Just great. Just what you needed to hear. Your _boyfriend_ fucking _loves_ you. Just when you thought life couldn’t get any more miserable.  


__

  
”Oh peepee poopoo,” You begin intelligently. “—Get over it. You would’ve been swimming with the fishies if it weren’t for me, my powerful swimming technique, bravery and initiative. You were gonna die. I saved your life, period.” You smile proudly with a shit-eating grin on your face. Eren groans, sounding remarkably like Marco squatting over his hole after a slice of cheese. Fuckin’ irritable bowel syndrome.  


__

  
_Try not to laugh challenge._ You cover your face with your hand, biting back laughter. Oh, how you love your internal monologue.  


__

  
” _What_ did you just say?” He asks, looking positively murderous. Yikes. Maybe you came on a little too strong.  


__

  
Eren, without a doubt, is one of the most mentally unhinged bitches you’ve ever come across in your life. There isn’t a day where don’t you wish his mom had gotten a black market abortion whilst pregnant with him but if there’s something you love about him it’s how much of an alpha-male wannabe he is. Alpha-males and alpha-male wannabes, share the distinct trait of being complete pussies who hate to feel out of control. It’s important not to shit all over their tragic, pathetic senses of masculinity and Eren, bless his little soul, is no exception to the rule.  


__

  
Rich for a guy wearing your pink thong but oh well.  


__

  
”I meant, I’m sorry for hurting you. Eren. Ha. I only saved you because I was scared to lose you, not because you’re physically inferior to me. I mean, take a look at the rankings—I’m out of the top two thousand!” You smile, as charmingly as you can and his eyes visibly soften. Lol. What a pussy.  


__

  
Being one of the worst ranking cadets in the history of the corps can really come in handy sometimes.  


__

  
Wait. No. This is bad. You’re making him feel better, not worse! You need to come up with something moderately insulting and quick.  


__

  
_Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit._  


__

  
A boot knocks you out of your thoughts,  


__

  
”What the fuck? What was that for?”  


__

  
He wiggles his bare toes, cruel smile playing on his lips and you can all you can think is that you wish the titan that ate his mom came back for seconds.  


__

  
”Your boot, boot-licker!” He nods his head like a waiter serving you at a fancy restaurant.  


  
Right. Just when you think you sussed out how sick in the head Eren is, he does something that is undoubtedly a million times sicker than before. Something tells you that you should deal with this maturely and leave the boy’s barracks now that he seems to be angry enough. You’ve completed your mission rather successfully. There’s no more reason to loiter around here. It’s time you were the bigger person.  


  
You hurl it back at him.  


__

  
”Me? A bootlicker? Coming from a simp like you? All you do is lick my boots,” You scoff, breathless at his audacity. “—I’m surprised you haven’t fused into my foot and become my sixth toe, dickhead!”  


  
You know that this stupid stalking dumbass didn’t just throw the only boot he owns at your head. He’s way too poor to be playing these games with you.  


  
Eren catches it and flings it back at you. It’s so sweaty that you barely manage to grip onto the nasty ass thing. Letting out an enraged roar and hurling it at him with the strength of a thousand anime protagonists, you aim for his balls. Man, you hate his balls. They’re so fucking big.  


__

  
”No, I’m not!”  


__

  
”Yes, you are!”  


__

  
”No, I’m not!”  


__

  
”Yes, you are!”  


__

  
”No, I’m not—“  


  
The sound of glass shattering from behind you quells the anger between you. Thick silence engulfs both you and Eren as you stand before the window, mouths agape and shit-scared.  


__

  
_There’s no way in hell I’m paying for that._  


__

  
You decide on taking the most logical, rational and productive course of action.  


__

  
“Commander Shadis! Come quick, Eren broke the window!”  


__

~

__

  
Due to the fact that your clit is bigger than your brain, in anger you had forgotten that you and Eren are already on shared latrine duty. Snitching on Eren only meant that you were snitching on yourself, too, and you guess you only have yourself to thank now that you have to scrub double the amount of toilets than before.  


__

  
And he still won’t break up with you.  


  
His dedication to you feels like a crime against humanity. How is anyone else supposed to experience the wonders of your per-china (Armin doesn’t like it when you say the V word) if he keeps it all to himself? Capitalist scum.  


  
”I’m nothing if not adaptable. I can work with this.” Armin says during a team briefing. The plan’s timing has now been compromised all because of Eren’s stinky boot and, naturally, everyone is vexed.  


__

  
”I cancelled on my brother’s bar mitzvah to help clown Eren. We need to make this work, bro.” Connie shakes his bald ass head, eyebrows knotted in grief.  


  
”Connie, don’t tell him you’re a Jew!” You give Armin the side eye and he resists rolling his own. 

  
Armin rubs his temples, tapping into his inner genius as the rest of the crowd murmurs in agreement.  


__

  
”Why the hell are y’all so passionate about this? I’m the one stuck with him,” You pull out a little box filled with what he hopes is talcum powder and dig your fingers into it.  


  
“—Yesterday, we were supposed to fit in new toilet seats but we couldn’t ‘cuz he was whining about catching a venereal disease from the old ones. Like, are you insane? What’s not clicking—you’re fucking _me_! I felt like slamming that shitter over his damn head.” You recount, leaning back into your chair, whilst touching your nose and sniffing suspiciously.  


__

  
Then, something within him lights up.  


__

  
”That’s it,” He claps his hands together excitedly. “—Don’t fit in the toilet seats yet, [Y/N], you’re gonna need them.”  



	5. The Eren Saga: Part 4 (fuck Eren lives we’re out of here luv x  )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out this illustration made by the legend...the icon...the baddie b herself miss SPACE TARGET since she inspired this chapter mwah I love you queen 
> 
> https://image.noelshack.com/fichiers/2020/23/7/1591562984-reiner.png

  
_Outside of the canteen, 5:00 PM_  


__

  
“Okay, everyone. Training is out of the way now. We can focus on the mission.” Armin tells the crowd of special agents huddled around him.  


__

  
”Say it’s name.” Jean smirks and Armin thinks for a moment that he truly does look like a horse. His face is never ending. That was mean. Wait. Crap. What if Jean can read people’s thoughts and he knows that Armin thinks he looks like a distinct breed of Equus and he’s slowly going to infiltrate his mind to make him think otherwise because the horse jokes upset him—  


  
Hold on. That’s not possible. Telepathy and mind control aren’t real, especially not in this universe. Armin shakes the thoughts from his head.  


  
Frowning, he sighs and struggles to get everyone (and himself) back on track.  


__

  
”What? That’s not important! Anyways, [Y/N] and Eren are going to start—“  


__

  
”C’mon Armin. Say it’s name. Don’t be such a wuss.” Armin sighs, heavier this time, at the level of intellectual inferiority Jean possesses.  


__

  
When he hears a few giggles from the surrounding cadets, he knows that there’s no way out of it.  


__

  
”...Operation f-free...da pussy,” he rolls his eyes at the sniggering of these ~~imbeciles~~ lovely participants.  


__

  
“—More importantly, [Y/N] and Eren are going to go to the latrines together. They’re going to start their duty at around 5:15 and they’ll be walking it from the training grounds so I estimate they’ll take around three or four minutes to get there. She’s going to wait a further ten minutes before making any moves to avoid arousing suspicion so I want everyone in their designated places by then. Bullying squad, I want you on the south-west region outside of the latrines. Do I make myself clear?”  


__

  
”Sir, yes, Sir!” They cheer and make their way to their positions. When he catches sight of a blind, blond hulk of a figure, he calls out.  


  
”Reiner, wait!”  


  
Reiner saunters up to what he must presume is Armin with his lips curled in a stupid grin. It is in-fact a tree.  


  
Armin sort of wishes Reiner had died at birth and takes it back instantaneously because that’s not very nice at all.  


  
”Nope that’s not—“ He tries to direct Reiner but it fails miserably. “—oh, screw it I’ll come to you.”  


  
”[Y/N] told me to give you this. She said it was a present to help with morale.” He hands over the brown bag to Reiner, wondering why he deserves special treatment. Armin, too, would like a bag but feels it would be inappropriate to ask.  


  
Reiner’s eyes widen then narrow, seemingly touched by the gesture.  


  
“Aw. She’s such a babe,” He shrugs before jogging off. “Catch you later Amy.”  


  
Armin can’t even be bothered to mad. Reiner’s been misgendering him since enlistment day. Instead, he secretly hopes that there’s a bomb in the bag he just handed over and immediately feels guilty for it.  


  
_Entrance of the training ground, 5:06 PM_

__

  
“Eren, babe, can you get a move on?” You sigh, checking the sky because this the fucking Middle Ages and you haven’t got a watch.  


__

  
”You can go by yourself! Or maybe Shadis can walk you to the latrines since you’re so close to him!” He sneers, brutally stabbing a titans figure with a wooden sword.  


__

  
“Eren, stop being petty. We’re gonna get in more trouble if we don’t show up on time.” Trying to reason with, quite possibly, the most unreasonable person in existence is unsurprisingly flopping right now.  


__

  
He ignores your pleas.  


__

  
Rolling your eyes, you grab his hand and tug on it. You’re losing valuable time and you refuse to go on more day as a monogamous, faithful woman.  


  
”Eren?” He turns his head and you decide that it’s time to fall back on your last resort.  


  
”Eren! You don’t want to make mommy angry, do you?”  


  
You switch up your tone into a nice cross between a sexy dominatrix and substitute teacher with no control over her class. He looks up at you in a cross of shock, disappointment and big horny energy.  


  
He should’ve known that you weren’t above using his kinks against him.  


  
”What?”  


  
”I said,” You harden your voice even more, being the experienced cock destroyer you are. “—That you don’t want to make mommy angry, do you?”  


  
He responds after an agonising moment of quiet, fingers twiddling together idly.  


  
”No, mommy!”  


  
Normally, he doesn’t shut the fuck up so why is he choosing now of all moments to be all brooding? (and not even the hot kind of way that Bert does).  


__

  
”Well, you’d better get a move on then. We only have a few minutes to get there and I’ll have to...punish you if we’re late.” Bleuh. How is his kink so gross that even _you_ even want no part in it.  


__

  
But Eren listens and matches your pace as you sprint to the latrines, having successfully exploited his childhood trauma.  


__

  
  


__

  
_Inside of the latrines, 5:10 PM_  


__

  
_Yes, we made it on time. I think...slayage._  


__

  
Eren brings over a crate of detergents and you screech in response.  


__

  
”What are you doing?”  


__

  
”Uh...cleaning, duh!”  


__

  
”No,” You scratch your head, trying to keep your last braincell alive. “—We’re gonna be fitting the toilet seats in today. We already agreed on that.”  


__

  
”...You were being serious? Shadis said our deadline for that is next Tuesday! Why would we do that nasty ass job now when we could save it for later?”  


__

  
He really wants to make this hard for you, doesn’t he? What a little fuckwit. In times of hardship, and since this is clearly a really hard fucking time, you look for comfort in the words of those who have moved you, or changed your life.  


  
The Ceo of communism Nicki Spinach once said that ‘bitches is her sons’ and that quote is something you’ve always kept close to your heart since bitches genuinely like to pretend that they're your sons. So it wouldn’t be too out of pocket if you beat Eren like your son, would it? Or would you still go to jail for parental abuse? Maybe a quick spanking, but that’d probably get him off. Ew.  


__

  
_Think. Think. Think. Think.  
_

__

  
”Because, then mommy won’t let you fuck her!” Your cooch is your biggest weapon, you’d be stupid not to use it.  


__

  
”Mommy, you’re kind of a snitch! I don’t know if I want to be intimate with a snitch! Just let me wipe down the cubicles in peace!”  


__

  
WHAT? How did your vagina fail you? This is terrible. A catastrophe, a disaster, a conundrum—  


__

  
_Oh balls. Okay. Think. Think. Think. Think._  


__

  
”I’ll let you do anal on me!”  


__

  
He pauses and looks at you, for a long, thoughtful moment, before placing the crate onto the floor and kicking it out of sight.  


__

  
  


__

  
_Southwest region outside of the latrines, 5:15 PM_  


__

  
”Move ya fucking spaz! I’m supposed to be at the frontline.” Jean grabs a random unimportant cadet by the ear and flings them backwards.  


__

  
” _Yooooo_ ,” Connie gasps, patting the random unimportant cadet on the shoulder. “—Are you just gonna take that? Because I wouldn’t. I would never let someone talk me that way.”  


__

  
Marco sighs, having just downed some indigestion pills.  


__

  
”Connie, can you go five seconds without trying to start shit?” Marco asks, wrinkling his freckled nose in disgust. And of course, this shocks Connie to the core.  


__

  
” _Huh_? What do you mean man? I’m not starting nothing, I’m just saying I wouldn’t take that. That was rude.” He flattens out his mouth, eyebrows raised and big bald ass head glinting in the sun.  


__

  
”Shut up. We’ve got a couple minutes left. Keep your eyes on the latrines and wait for Yeager and [L/N] to get out there.” Squad Leader Jean orders and everyone sighs because imagine taking orders from an fugly rat like him. It’s a modern day tragedy.  


__

  
”Sir, yes Sir...” Some answer in an offbeat chorus. Most of them pretend like they didn’t hear and the cadet he hit straight up flips him off.  


__

  
“Whatever.” He rolls his eyes. This is his military debut and he’s not going to muck it up.  


  
  


  
_Inside of the latrines, 5:26 PM_  


  
”I can’t wait to have anal sex with you,” Eren hums, having successfully removed the old toilet seat without squealing like a little bitch. “—It’s gonna be a blast!”  


  
Turns out, all you ever needed to do to make him listen to you was offer up your reverse vagina.  


  
”Yeah, I’m sure.” You eye up the clean, unused toilet seat next to you before slowly gripping it in your hands. Now, is the perfect moment to take action.  


  
Eren is engrossed in his task. Eren has been pacified with the promise of destroying your poo poo hole. Eren is looking ahead of you. Eren is oblivious. Eren is vulnerable. Meticulously, you pick up the toilet seat and hold it over his head.  


  
”Do I need to buy lube or have you got some?”  


  
He speaks up and you pause, pulling back slightly.  


  
”Yeah, plenty. Wanna use a flavoured one?” Luckily, he keeps his head down and focuses on his work—fingers deftly working the screwdriver in hands. Aw man, you’re gonna miss those.  


  
Not enough to pussy out of the plan though.  


  
”Yeah, what flavours you got?” He inquires excitedly.  


  
Your grip around the toilet seat only gets harder.  


  
“Plenty,” You chuckle lightly, thinking of the drawer full of Durex pleasure gel you have back in the barracks. “—Name a fruit you like and I’ve probably got it.”  


  
_Well, it’s been fun while it lasted. Sayonara as the Japanese would say! Not that it has any relevance to us._  


  
”Have you got mango—“  


  
You bring the toilet seat down.  


  
  


  
_South-west region outside of the latrines, 5:30 PM  
_

__

  
” _AHHHHHHHHHHHHH_!”  


__

  
”The Lord Jesus told us that whoever closes his ear to the cry of the poor will, himself, call out and not be answered—“  


  
”Shut your ass up Bert,” Jean huffs. “—You literally signed up for this shit. Armin held try-outs. Why are you acting surprised?” To which Bert murmurs something about how Hell is too good for a non-believer like Jean.  


  
”Yeah Bert, we're literally here to murder everyone. Fuckin’ Eldians. Who cares? Let’s party.” Reiner chirps to which everyone turns and stares at him. Jean raises an eyebrow in questioning because, honestly, being murdered sounds pretty appealing right about now.  


  
”What? Murder, my guy?” Connie shouts, eyes wide and bald ass head shaking in disbelief.  


  
”Murder? The fuck are y’all talking about?” Jean asks, half confused and half willing to take him up on the offer.  


  
Bert scrambles for a response, twisting his rosemary, nervously, but is interrupted by Reiner’s quick thinking.  


  
”Ahahahahaha—“  


  
The blond laughs nervously, eyes bulging out in panic. Oh God, what was Bert thinking? He can’t entrust any sort of responsibility to that cretin. There isn’t a day where he doesn’t wish that Ymir vored his disgusting, atheist ass.  


  
“...Uh, he said that God is benevolent and we are made in his image—“ To which everyone groans, a cacophony of ‘shut your ass up’ echoing through the summer air.  


  
Everyone turns their attention back to the latrines with bored expressions. This really isn’t the epic mission Armin made it out to be, more of a long and intricate waiting game that requires patience that a bunch of snotty teens just don’t have.  


  
”Hehe, nice save.” Reiner giggles, hand cupped around the side of his face in an attempt at secrecy. Bert rolls his eyes and goes back to praying for the souls of homosexuals.  


  
Jean leans back into his chair, letting out a noise of strangled frustration. His military debut is being fucked up because you’re too illiterate to tell the time.  


  
”Where is that dumbass? Her and Yaeger should’ve been out here by now. He’s been screaming for the last four—no, five minutes now. Maybe we should go in and check it out.”  


  
”Have patience.” Mikasa frowns, clearly uncomfortable at the sounds of pain resonating from within the latrines. Armin nods shakily next to her.  


  
”Really? I would’ve thought you’d be the first to run inside and check on Eren.” He smiles, a little crookedly at her in boyish adoration. She doesn’t bother to look at him, playing with the hem of her scarf.  


  
”This is the easiest option,” she begins softly. “—Who knows what disease she’ll give him if they go long term. We need to end it now, before he proposes to her and she gives him HIV.”  


  
Jean falls a little more in love.  


  
  


  
_Inside of the latrines, 5:35 PM_  


  
”Baby, sweetheart, my love, why the _FUCK_ did you do this to me?” Eren bellows, toilet seat wrapped around his neck and writhing around like an alcoholic sunflower.  


  
“It was an accident! It fell!”  


  
”And wedged itself perfectly around my neck?”  


  
”That’s gravity for you!”  


  
He tries to stand but can’t. You take it as an opportunity to manoeuvre him up and lead him outside.  


  
”Fuck! What are you doing now, you heinous bitch?”  


  
You sigh, eyes planted on the ground because if you look at him you’re going to burst out into laughter. He’s being completely uncooperative and refusing to go outside and seek help despite the shit circle stuck around him.  


  
”It’s stuffy in here, Eren, and you’re stressing me out. Let’s just go outside, somewhere private, and I can get this off.” You tap the toilet seat in an attempt at consoling him. He recoils like you’ve got the clap, which isn’t all unlikely.  


  
”I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? With your freaky saviour complex!”  


  
He yelps childishly and you roll your eyes. Maybe if you clobbered him over the head and he died, you could claim the toilet seat asphyxiated him instead. It sounds good, perfectly logical and you’ll be free to pass pussy around like it’s Sunday roast again.  


  
_“Take care of him or else they’ll never find your body,” Mikasa smiles at you. You gulp. “—Not even a single skin cell will be left of you. Your pussy lips—they’ll be going in the shredder.”_  


  
Yikes. Well. That’s out of the question.  


  
“Shut up.” You grip the side of the toilet seat and drag him out.  


  
You have plans for the future, plans for people outside of the walls, and plans for _tonight_. Eren Yeager isn’t going to hold you back anyone.  


  
  


  
_South-west region outside of the latrines, 5:37 PM_  


  
”Eren sit the fuck down!” He struggles against your arms as you try to get him to sit.  


  
The bullying squad watch you in the distance, Mikasa squinting carefully. You throw in a light kick to his chest in the flurry of arms and legs, mostly for your own enjoyment. He screams. Worst case scenario, if it bruises you can claim that it was unintentional.  


  
Luckily, it works and he falls to the ground. Due to the big ass fucking toilet seat on his neck, he can’t turn to see the group of super secret special soldiers that Armin selected—which is literally the entire corps.  


  
”No, get off of me! You’re just as bad as the titans for restraining me like this! I won’t forgive you!”  


  
”Have you got a lawyer?” You ask smoothly, hands wrapped around his neck.  


  
”No.  


  
”Then I’m not afraid luv,” Raising one of your hands, you give the signal, green flare going up in the air. The bullying squad comes charging forth. “—Now sit still and I’ll get this off.”  


  
He wriggles some more.  


  
”What’s that? Is someone doing fireworks? It’s broad daylight, what the fuck? Are there people nearby?” He tries to look up but can’t. Ha, it’s kind of funny in a pathetic sort of way. You wish you had a way of memorialising this moment but, sadly, the world isn’t all that technologically advanced yet.  


  
”Nope.”  


  
He cranes his neck higher, upon the sounds of laughter coming closer.  


  
”Yes, there fucking is! You’re lying! Mommy, how could you lie to me?” His eyes are comically wide, face scrunched up into shock and it takes every last bit of self restraint in you to not laugh. Which isn’t much, so you end up laughing anyways.  


  
Before you can answer him and entertain his emotional breakdown, Jean thee stallion is quick to make his entrance.  


  
”Yaeger, is that you? With a fucking toilet seat stuck on your head? Do you enjoy latrine duty that much or this some weird freaky sex thing?” He cackles meanly.  


  
Wow, he’s a natural at this whole bullying thing. You would’ve hated being in middle school with him. Sniggering quietly, you quickly fall back into your role as the sweet, overly helpful girlfriend.  


  
”Fuck off, Jean. Unless you’re gonna help me wrench this off then get out of here,” You wink at him and he winks back with a pleased nod, clearly enjoying himself. “—In fact, all of you fuck off.”  


  
”All of them? There’s more than one?” Eren shrieks embarrassedly.  


  
”Lookin’ good, Yeager!” Marco giggles his lactose intolerant ass off.  


  
”Sexy necklace, you got. Very sex...” Thomas nods with a content smile. Ew. Loser.  


  
Even Annie is here, although silent and brooding as ever. Instead, she positions herself near you and Eren with a painting kit—ready to memorialise the entire moment so he’ll never be able to recover from the trauma. This bitch...she has the mind of a mastermind.  


  
The other members of the team make their theatrical debut, laughing and chanting and pointing fingers. Eren’s face reddens noticeably and you feel somewhat bad but then remember that you’ve fucked a majority of the people standing around you and plan on finishing the job.  


  
_You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain._  


  
”Stop it, stop moving Eren! This isn’t embarrassing at all! It’s not as though they’re gonna relentlessly mock you for this with a cruel nickname like, I dunno, poo poo head Yaeger or something!” You shout, nodding at the crowd whilst pulling at Eren’s neck. They let out a raucous peal of laughter. Aw, it’s like a free trip to the zoo.  


  
”That’s hilarious! Poo poo head Yaeger!” Ymir bursts into laughter. She’s never quite happy unless she’s ruining someone’s life and you can kind of respect that. “—Everyone, let’s sing it! Poo poo head Yeager, poo poo head Yaeger!”  


  
And so, everyone starts singing and dancing you’re the only one who can’t join in. Hell, even Bert’s having a good time and that guy is constantly miserable. You’re sure that they’ve formed a conga line but can’t look up because you’re focused on wrenching off the toilet seat.  


  
”Are you gonna take that, Eren? That’s fucked up, man, I wouldn’t take that. I’d fuck them all up if were you. Once you get out of...that.” Connie crouches over Eren, shouting into his reddening ears as everyone else continues to party in the name of his humiliation.  


  
”You guys are awful! Let me save Eren in peace and quiet, can’t you see he’s helpless right now?” You project your voice with great stability. You always knew you were a talented, powerful bitch but today you’ve truly outdone yourself.  


  
” _Helpless_? Let me do it myself!” Eren jerks his head about wildly, not doing shit all to be honest, but at least it’s making him feel better.  


  
After a while, you can’t help but pity the guy. Looking up at Armin, he gives you the thumbs up and you decide to put Eren out of his misery.  


  
The toilet seat makes a nasty slick sound as you yank it off, having pre-greased it the night before. Eren, being the sweaty little piggie he is couldn’t tell. Serves him right for not using deodorant.  


  
Either way, you quickly embrace him, planting hurried kisses all over his face as everyone jeers around you. He’s still, knuckles clenched and pale white. Perfect.  


  
”Eren! I’m so glad I was able to save you because you couldn’t have done it yourself! Let me take a look at your neck, sweetheart! I’ll get you some ointment and we can do some anal play later, I promise—“  


  
There’s a distinct _thwack_ as he knocks over the head with the toilet seat.  


  
You fly backwards, eyes closed. Oh. Balls. So, this is how you go out? This is how it all ends? You die as a soldier, in the midst of a mission. Personally, you never thought you’d bite the dust so heroically—maybe in a bar fight or overdose or succumbing to a long term struggle with an STI but never like this. Wow. Feels kinda good.  


  
You skid onto the grass before laying flat. It’s absolute crickets as everyone processes what just happened. The only sound is Eren’s enraged panting, simmering lightly in his throat.  


  
Someone approaches your limp body.  


  
”Get up. Stop playing dead.” Jean’s boot connects lightly with your waist.  


  
”How do you know?”  


  
”Because you’re literally fucking talking to me.”  


  
“Details, details,” You sigh and sit up on your juicy ass. “—That wasn’t very cash money of you, Eren. First your sister, now you, what the fuck is your family’s obsession with neurotrauma? I even agreed to take it up the ass for you and this is how you repay me?”  


  
”Ew,” Sasha rolls her eyes with a loaf of bread in her hand. “—Some of us are eating here.”  


  
In a very un-Eren fashion, he stays quiet despite your provocations—slowly panting under his breath.  


  
”You listening? Why did you do that? If I died of blunt force trauma then who would protect you? You need to be more careful, Eren, and—“  


  
” _SHUT UP_!” He howls. Goddamn, he really needs to work on himself. His vibe is legitimately so bad that you consider calling the cops on him for a solid minute or so.  


  
”I don’t need to be protected! I don’t need to be looked after and if you died right now, the only thing I’d miss is your obnoxiously warm vagina! You make me fucking sick! Always lurking somewhere, ready to save the day and nurture me and I _hate_ it! When I called you mommy, you took to that shit too seriously, [Y/N]! I don’t need a hero to swoop in and save the day—especially when you’re the one who put me in danger in the first place! I don’t know if it’s the titans, or me or your coke addiction but you’ve changed!”  


  
You blink. Damn, he didn’t need to come for your edges like that.  


  
”So about tonight? Because, I need to mentally prepare myself before we do it in such an intrusive way...“ You bait him some more because angry as he is, he hasn’t explicitly cancelled your ass yet.  


  
He sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose as though talking to an imbecile before resuming his ten minute long screeching session.  


  
”I don’t give a rat’s ass! I don’t want to fuck you, I don’t want to be with you, I don’t even want to know you!” He grits out, face flaming red.  


  
_I’m sensing a lot of negativity. Maybe yoga would be good for him._  


  
”Huh? So, you don’t want to date me anymore?” You ask, unable to restrain the fat from in your face.  


  
”No!”  


  
”Really?” You ask in disbelief.  


  
”Yes!”  


  
Today is just shaping up wonderfully. You woke up, took a shower, had reheated chicken nuggets for breakfast and now your man is breaking up with you, okay okay.  


  
_The way I served..._  


  
Snapping your fingers, you gesture for Christa to come forth with a pen and pull out an old receipt from your pocket.  


  
”Can I get that in writing?”  


  
He gives you a disgusted look but nods anyway. He scribbles it down on the pre-drawn dotted line you illustrated earlier like a true artistic goddess. “—If it means you fuck off forever then sure.”  


  
”Y’all,” Christa turns around and faces the apprehensive group of home wreckers behind you all. “—The mission was a success!” And naturally, everyone goes ballistic because of it, cheering and clapping.  


  
Mikasa goes back to her rightful place—Eren’s asscrack and Armin gives you a knowing, bright smile. What a cutie. You hope he doesn’t value bro code too much because the next chance you get to ride him into sunset—you’re taking it.  


  
”Huh? _Mission_?” Eren asks but you don’t bother to respond because he isn’t your problem anymore. You’re a free woman.  


  
”Any words?” Christa asks you, Ymir and Sasha joining her.  


  
”I would like to thank God, the academy, my parents, Armin, all of you bitches.” She nods at the profound nature of your words, laughing sweetly.  


  
You reaffirm to yourself that the meaning of love is indeed small blond girls.  


  
”Thank you, thank you. Say, Eren gave in a lot easier than I thought he would. Didn’t you think there’d be more a struggle?” She recounts thoughtfully.  


  
Okay, maybe she isn’t the meaning of love.  


  
”He clobbered me over the head with a toilet seat.”  


  
”Yeah, but it felt a little anti-climatic,” She pouts. “—I expected a bit more.”  


  
Ymir laughs, although it sounds much more insidious than well-meaning. She’s such a freak of nature. You wonder what hole her little raggedy ass could’ve possibly spawned from and if it’s possible for her to go back there.  


  
”Don’t worry, Chrissie,” She slings an arm around her. “—We still need to hide that pubey doll he made of her.” And Christa claps in innocent excitement because she’s Christa and she loves helping people so you can’t even be mad at her.  


  
You stare off into the distance, looking for a particular figure. All of this clout, all of this drip, all of this success but it means nothing without the right person to celebrate it with.  


  
”Babe?” Someone calls. He’s here.  


~

  
Reiner stands before you, a bottle of strawberry flavoured lube and deluxe monster dildo in his hands. The fluttering of butterflies in your pussy is so violent, you almost topple over.  


  
”Babe...” You reply, a little breathless at the sight of him. His dick is now free real estate and boy are in need of a property!  


  
”I got your gift, Babe.” He smiles and you nod, joyous tears collecting in your eyes. Eren gasps from behind you.  


  
He should’ve known better. After all, everyone knows you can’t turn a hoe into a house wife. Especially a seasoned one, such as yourself. That’s just asking for good ol’ serving of heartbreak.  


  
“ _Gift_? What is this...” Ymir gives you and Reiner a strange look before the realisation hits her. “—Oh hell no, he gay.”  


  
”It’s a perfectly normal thing to experiment with, Ymir.” Christa smacks her playfully on the arm.  


  
”Maybe if you want a one-way trip to conversion therapy.” She looks utterly disgusted for someone who’s the resident fanny-basher.  


  
The girls leave, primarily because their job is done and they don’t care anymore. In fact, everyone begins to leave, ready for more celebration, petty crime and making plans to steal Shadis’ whiskey collection. Except for Eren. He’s whining about tattoo removal prices but that’s on him.  


  
You and Reiner lie together in the grass, watching the rats make their way back into their respective ratholes. He strokes your hair gently, peering up at the clouds.  


  
”You did Yaeger dirty, babe.” He shakes his head, a fond smile stretching out his cheeks.  


  
”He had it coming.” You snuggle into Reiner’s arms a little more. You’d forgotten how much more beefier he is in comparison Eren. It’s been so long since you were promiscuous.  


  
”Yeah. That’s true. I’m just saying, if I were him my feelings would be hurt.” He pouts absent-mindedly.  


  
”Shut up, gayboy,” You blink, sit up and gesture towards your shopping haul. “—Anyways, now we got that out of the way, wanna smash?”  


~

  
”Oh, shit!”  


  
”Shit? _Where_?”  


  
”No, not physically. I mean...it just feels good.”  


  
”Oh...well, thank you.”  


  
You continue to give Reiner the strapping of a lifetime, bucking your hips wildly. He’s seriously hot and the misandrist in you just loves to see hot men under your thumb.  


  
_Taking a break from feminism to dominate his bussy._  


  
”No problem, _nngh_ ,” He rasps out, meeting your thrusts. “—Babe, you’re my favourite Eldian.”  


  
You pick up the pace, gripping onto his hair and tugging.  


  
”You too, Rein. You too.” You pat his back consolingly. As much as you enjoy rearranging his guts, he has a habit of getting all soppy and emotional on you.  


  
“Ew, don’t call me that!” He gives you a dirty look from over his shoulder. You blow him a kiss, hammering into his boochie. He yelps, arching his back smoothly.  


  
”—Ah...a-anyways, it’s gonna be kind of tough when I have to exterminate you. Who else is gonna peg me? People... _nnnngh_ are so judgey about it.”  


  
Reiner has this on-going sexual fantasy of being a mass murderer warrior from a far-away land. It’s kinda weird but he’s a fun guy and, overall, a really good fuck so you don’t mind entertaining it.  


  
In fact, Reiner’s probably one of your favourite people in the world. It would be a shame if he hideously betrayed you one day with an actual murder plot.  


“We all die, babe, you either kill yourself or get killed. Don’t worry about it,” You pause your ministrations. “—Now get on your back.”  


  
”You gonna eat my shitter like an apple fritter, babe?” He bats his eyelashes and you laugh, rolling your eyes.  


  
”Babe, you already know.”  


  
It feels so good to be back in the game.  



	6. Abusing Jean is fun ft Armin, Reiner and Bert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Give me ideas what do you y’all want to see 👩❤️💋👩👩❤️💋👩👩❤️💋👩
> 
> Also I’m thinking of writing a series that details the actual smut that takes place in this fic because i don’t really go into much detail about it?? Let me know what you think and if you’d want to read it mwah

  
”Sometimes I wish I was ugly so when people dress up, I could call them my twin and ruin their entire day.” You sigh, trailing through the woodlands with a frown.  


  
”I asked you if you know where we are,” Armin replies, brushing low, thin foliage out of his way. “—But that was...brave of you to share. Thank you.” He looks at you, in the expectant way he does everything.  


  
Child prodigies, for you. They expect everyone to be just as smart as they are. Well, not if you and your single chromosome have anything to do with it!  


  
”Oh.” You stop in your tracks, stretching out the map in your palms and staring at it with squinting, straining eyes. “—Nope. No idea.”  


  
Fuck Shadis for making you go on another shitty camping exercise training thingy. You have way better things to do than walk around in mud all day with a bunch sweaty, insecure virgins (minus Reiner, he’s cool).  


  
In fact, you could be getting your hair done or doing some skincare or your selling sketches of your toes to creepy middle-aged men in the town square or just _relaxing_ under the summer sky, appreciating the clouds with a lethal amount of cocaine up your nostrils. But life is cruel and, often, doesn’t let you have your way so for today, mud and sweaty, insecure virgins is all that’s on the itinerary.  


  
”What? We’re lost?” Jean pipes up with large, worried eyes. You scoff, a mean grin stretching your cheeks.  


  
”Babe?” Reiner asks and Bert, although saying nothing, has the same questioning look on his face.  


  
”No, _we’re_ lost. You’re right at home, horsey.” He lets out an annoyed grunt and opens his mouth, presumably to slut-shame with an unoriginal, bland insult that he’s recycled about six hundred times before.  


  
Armin, sensing the tension, is quick to cut him off.  


  
_As he should. Long headed freak._  


  
”You can’t tell us where we are? Weren’t you looking at the map? You’re on map duty for a reason—to read the map!” He squeaks, head shaking with the force of his nerves and you sigh, patting him consolingly on the back.  


  
”Come on, Armin. You should’ve known better than to give me that sort of responsibility. You set yourself up.” You smile sweetly and he reddens in annoyance, teeth gritting as he tries to find the right words.  


  
Luckily for you, Armin is too nice to explicitly call you out on being a dumb bitch.  


  
”Yeah but...you—you asked for it! Bert was supposed to be the map reader! You called us _misogynists_ when we didn’t give it to you.” He stumbles over his words, lips quivering and it would be cute if you weren’t stuck in the stinky, ugly woods with him.  


  
Fuck Mother Nature.  


  
”And you proved that you aren’t! Isn’t that great?” Your eyes slide over to the line of enraged, unimpressed men. “—Society needs more people like you. Forward-thinking, progressive kings! We love to see it.”  


  
Reiner looks a little bit torn, murmuring under his breath about how he should just transform and trample on top of you as brave, fearless warrior. It’s kind of freaky but no one addresses it due the terrifying nature of your predicament. Instead, Jean, Armin and Bert simply blink at you in despair.  


  
”See what women do when they’re out of the kitchen?” Jean speaks at last.  


  
”See what horses do when they’re out of the stable?”  


  
At this, he legitimately _tugs_ at his own hair in frustration, huffing and rolling his eyes at you so wildly, you begin to think that he’s having a seizure.  


  
“Are you serious? Do what? What did I do?” He points at you accusatorially and you push his sausage of a finger away from you. “—You’re the dickhead that got us lost in the middle of the woods on top of a mountain in the middle of fucking _nowhere_!”  


  
”Triggered much?” You mutter to a silent, albeit irritated Armin. He doesn’t reply, looking as though he’s going to cry instead and you don’t blame him.  


  
Jean is so negative. He’s really not doing much for team morale, right now.  


  
“ _Triggered_? You know, just when I think you can’t get any more stupid—you always find a way to outdo yourself. We have minimal resources and a day to complete our task and get back to camp. I’m _concerned_. Rightfully. So.” He continues to rant on like the pussy ass beta male he is and you roll your eyes.  


  
The only reason why Shadis put you on this sausage fest of a team is because he knows you’re not interested in men right now. After your terrible month-long endeavour with Eren, you swore off of cock and ball torture and instead began taking a more keen interest in the iconic duo that is: clitty and titty.  


  
Oh how you’d love to be on an all female team. Even Ymir’s company would count as a blessing. Mikasa, evil and despicable as she is, would be a God-send and you’ve already expressed your deep, deep love for little Christa. You miss Sasha’s constant chewing and obesity. Annie is nice, too, when she’s not such a frigid bitch—  


  
”When Jesus saw their faith, he said, 'Friend, your sins are forgiven,'” Bert speaks up, with a gentle smile. “—If the good Lord can forgive those who sin then we can forgive, [Y/N] for her discrepancies.”  


  
Just as you’re about to tell him to shut his ass up, it registers that he’s speaking in your defence. Oh, Bertie. You always knew you could trust your Catholic king. Running over to his side and hiding behind his lean, lithe figure—you seek protection by clinging onto the sinew of his arms.  


  
_Why now? Why do I have to be on lesbo mode now? Maybe he’s right, maybe homosexuality is a disease..._  


  
”Shut your ass up—“  


  
”No!” You shout, shivering behind Bert who’s making the gratuitous effort of trying pull his arm away from you. “—You shut _your_ ass up, Jean. You can’t argue with a man of God.”  


  
Bert stops struggling when you say that, instead flashing you a pleased (although weirdly pious) smile. In fact, he puffs his chest out and shields you more from the wild horse across you.  


  
”You’re not even a Christian!” He screeches, eyes bulging out. Armin tries to get his attention with soft, calming cooing noises but it flops.  


  
”Silence, blasphemer.” You stick your nose up in the air and huff. “—I have nothing more to say to you.”  


  
There’s a thick, uncomfortable silence between everyone. You briefly consider running off into the trees but it doesn’t seem to make much logical sense—after all, Jean is the one holding the food bag so you’d starve by all by yourself. Not to mention, you’d probably be safer with the guys. If any wild animals attack your camp, at least you’d be able to find safety in numbers and use one the walking penises as a human shield. Yeah, it’s best to stay put.  


  
”Look. Babe made a mistake,” Reiner speaks up, after sternly reaffirming to himself that he’s a soldier, not a warrior. “—But shit happens. Let’s just enjoy the moment. Party, man.”  


  
The amount of testosterone is genuinely nauseating. ReiBert stand in front of you with tense jaws and furrowed brows whilst JeArmin try to replicate that same energy despite their obvious lack of resolve.  


  
Armin puts all his strength into deep-throating his inhaler and Jean looking as though he wants to abort you at your big age of nineteen. The stand off is too much to handle and not even in your usual hormonal, perverted way.  


  
_I need fifty millilitres of pussy juice, stat._  


  
”Guys, lets just pack it in. It’s getting dark so we can set up here for the night, find the flag and then get ourselves back to camp tomorrow? That sound good?” Armin, the resident braincell, finally speaks up after catching his breath, shaking his inhaler for a final time and placing into back into his pocket.  


  
”That’s a wonderful idea.”  


  
”Yee.”  


  
“You’re so smart, Armin.” You compliment, batting your eyelashes with a meek smile. He visibly blushes.  


  
For a moment, you think Jean is going to argue but he looks around and realised that he’s clearly outnumbered, everyone having already agreed and all defences surrounding you. To celebrate your victory, you stick your tongue out at him. Of course, it has the desired effect and he growls—utterly pissed off.  


  
”Huh?” Bert looks back at you, trying to understand why literal steam is coming out of Jean’s ears but is too slow. You quickly muster the most sweet chaste smile you can.  


  
”—Aw. Bless.” He pats you on the head and you close your eyes, proudly soaking his affections up. Ha. No one is immune to your cutesy charm and plump ass, not even the holiest of holy men.  


  
_This is fun._  


  
When Bertie turns around, you decide to go in for round two and stick your middle finger up at Jean. His eyes pop out and he scrambles forward to you, not that your henchmen would ever let him reach you. 

  
”She’s clearly provo _o_ king me! How are you guys not seeing this?” His voice cracks, as if he couldn’t any more embarrassing. You snigger slyly, a truly malicious look twisting your features. You’re still hot though.  


  
”Come on, Jean. This isn’t important. We should focus on conserving our energy.” Armin faces him with a pleasantly strained expression. Lmao.  


  
”Yeah, Jean. Stop villainising me.” You pout, a somber expression clouding your features. Reiner looks murderous when he sees it, giving Jean his most intense death-stare.  


  
”Yeah, whatever,” He grits out, throwing you a strained dirty look. “—I’m tired anyways.”  


  
_Just another win for the gays._  


  
Jean takes his L and everyone moves on from your minor dispute. Except for you, that is. The next time Jean makes the mistake of his head back, you pucker your lips at him like a true petty queen.  


  
He screams.  


~

  
You’re sure that this could be a pretty funny joke to tell everyone, once you get back. It would probably go along the lines of something like ‘ _One mentally unstable gym lad, a radical Christian, a human-horse hybrid, anti-semetic megamind and a mean spirited pussy popper walk into the woods. They get lost and decide to set up a campfire. The pussy popper isn’t too happy about being the vicinity of the human-horse hybrid but the radical Christian tries to save the day, claiming that—_  


  
”I know what’ll cheer you guys right up! I have a lovely selection of Church approved camp-fire songs that we could sing!”  


  
Okay, maybe it wouldn’t be all that funny.  


  
”Ooh,” You love yourself a bit of karaoke, personally. “—What have you got?” The guys are so miserable right now that you can’t help but feel Bert is right. Maybe a song and a dance will repair everyone’s damaged vibes.  


  
Bertie perks up, ready to list all of the religious bops that he knows but Reiner is quick to interrupt him.  


  
“Shut your ass up, Bert,” he begins. “—I don’t think your Jesus take the wheel remix is gonna cheer anyone up.”  


  
”But it’s the reggae version!”  


  
Reiner knots his brows together with a solemn frown, shaking his head no.  


  
Clearly, Reiner has other plans for the night because he stands up and successful navigates his way over to you, thanks to the contacts he bought through suing the government officials who wanted to pass that shitty law against him.  


  
”I have an idea,” He proposes cheerily. “—We all play spin the bottle _but_ it’s just me and my babe.” He wiggles his brows at you suggestively, throwing in a crooked wink.  


  
That one makes you chuckle as Jean and Bert give the two of you disgusted expressions. You have to admit, Reiner comes out with some creative shit from time to time. If the world wasn’t so focused on not dying at the hands of titans, he could’ve gone into comedy.  


  
Armin, on the other hand, pays none of you any mind, lying flat on the ground and staring up at the night sky. He probably misses Eren and Mikasa, having been separated from them for the first time since his mother queefed him out. You kind of want to comfort him but, instead, find yourself trapped in this shitshow of teen hormones and spermy nonsense.  


  
”Just you and [Y/N]?”  


  
Reiner nods his head gravely, slipping his hand into your own. His grip feels stronger than usual and you surmise that he must be taking his multivitamins.  


  
”For competitive purposes.”  


  
”...So you wanna make out with [Y/N]?” Jean cocks a haughty brow. Reiner splutters as though horrified by the prospect of getting some lip action.  


  
“Well, ha ha, if it leads to that...then uh...”  


  
You give him a little pat on the cheek, sighing through your nose. Here you are, turning down Reiner—you never thought you’d see the day. Talk about character growth.  


  
”Sorry, Rein. Not tonight.”  


  
The guys look at you, perturbed and disturbed and you blink at them confusedly. Goddamn, you know you get around but you’re not _that_ much of a hoe. Sometimes, you just want a quiet, dickless night in. It shouldn’t be so surprising and yet, it is.  


  
_I’ve really made a name for myself. Maybe, I should make a business card just in case._  


  
”Forreal?” He blinks at you, contact slipping out of place and low-key looking sort of cock-eyed.  


  
“What a beautiful reformation. I’m glad to see that you’re taking on a more chaste path of life.” Bertie comments a little dreamily, looking up from his miniature, travel-sized Bible.  


  
”Yeah, I’m not in the mood tonight,” You smile, ruffling his hair and getting up on your feet. “—And anyways, babe, you know that we’d never leave it at just kissing. I’m too tired for that.” To which Bertie is shocked by, letting out a scoff—that soon grows into a whole ass coughing fit.  


  
Reiner shrugs cooly, being born and bred a bad bitch.  


  
”Mm, it’s cool, babe. You just get some rest.” He plays with your fingers a bit as he speaks, before finally letting them go.  


  
One thing that you appreciate about Reiner is that, despite his delicacy and tenderness, he doesn’t give a flying fuck about you. Well, at least not in the romantic sense. Reiner is many things: hot, blond, borderline blind, a muscle bunny and complete and utter babe but before all of those things, he is the biggest fucking manwhore you’ve ever met.  


  
A case of the communist peen. The community dick, if you will and you’re certainly not the only person who he dicks down but _you_ are the only one who gives him the dick that he wants. He has all types of side hoes but, unfortunately, due to most of the girls in the corps going into cardiac arrest at the thought of a big manly man like Reiner taking the strap, he relies on you solely for that service. Through it, you’ve formed a wonderful friendship.  


  
After all, it’s not just sex. Over the past four years, he’s become your emotional support himbo and that shit should be considered an honour, given what a mean-spirited fuckhead you are. Literally, no one wants to be your friend. Ever. But somehow, good old Reiner managed to do it.  


  
You talk about things other than sex: life, the world, your dreams, the political climate and corruption of the human character and how it’s time to eat the rich. He can be surprisingly deep at times, coming out with the most thoughtful, interestingly philosophical ideas. Most of the time it’s after you bump uglies which is rather shitty timing because you lack critical thinking skills when you’re wide awake so there’s no way in hell you’d be able to give him a good debate after he’s fucked the glucose out of you.  


  
Reiner accepts that about you, though. Come to think of it, he accepts everything as it is and you’re not sure about whether it’s him having a free spirit or low IQ. Regardless, the arrangement between you is a beautiful one. No strings attached, a complete lack of morality and zero respect for monogamy. Perfect.  


  
”Aw. Why’d you have to act cute for? Now I kinda wanna blow you.” You laugh but it sounds more like a bark. Reiner slaps you on the butt and points to the blanket that he and Bert forced horse-face to lay out for you earlier.  


  
_UwU my slaves._  


  
”Scram, you Eldian rat.” He chuckles as Bert looks at him worriedly, frantically shaking his head no and mouthing the words ‘shut up’. You can’t help but laugh back.  


~

  
You wake up earlier than everyone else does. The sky has faded into a dull, azure sort of colour and the sun has yet to rise. There are still stars in the sky, gleaming quietly, and you watch them for a few moments through heavy-lidded eyes.  


  
”I’m gonna piss myself,” You murmur groggily, wrenching your fat ass up to find a nice bush that’ll hopefully accommodate your bladder well enough.  


  
Trudging through the trees, you eventually find someplace that fits your criteria (although you still can’t see that well, courtesy of the eye boogeys stuck in your cornea). Squatting down, you relieve yourself with a sigh.  


  
”That’s what I’m talking about...”  


  
Making your way back to camp, you hear low, hushed murmuring and almost piss yourself again out of fear. Is it possible that they’re bandits out here? You’re far too good—looking to remain untouched and if they find you, you’ll definitely be sex-trafficked. Your group is so stupid, too, that they probably wouldn’t even notice your absence. Actually...scratch that. Armin would totally notice but something tells you that he’d want to forget your existence and would avoid reporting you missing to the appropriate authorities.  


  
The murmuring continues and you wonder if it’s Reiner having another breakdown again. But you approach the voice, as all idiots would, and realise that it’s much too high, much too bitch-like to ever be your macho ten inch punisher.  


  
”Armin?” You ask, face dropping into a scowl. What the hell is his little ass doing out here all alone? If a coyote attacked him, he wouldn’t even be able to scream for help before it took a bite out of his malnourished crack.  


  
”Huh?” He looks up and smiles politely when he sees that it’s you.  


  
_Why does he smile like he’s at a job interview?_  


  
”What you doing up? It’s late. Dangerous, too, to be out here by yourself.” You barely manage to get the words out, still tired as fuck.  


  
Armin’s smile shrinks, becomes a little more sheepish and reserved. He looks down at his fidgeting fingers. You regret asking him, wishing that you had just rolled your ass back into bed.  


  
”I know but...I couldn’t sleep.”  


  
”...Okay.”  


  
You turn to make your way back to camp and knock out a few extra hours of sleep before having to deal with Jean’s neighing tomorrow but Armin calls after you, an imploring look on his face.  


  
”Wait—aren’t you going to ask me why?”  


  
You physically have to restrain yourself from groaning. You’re not a therapist and the doctorate you have is forged (not that it matters, you had to the throw bastard thing away when Ymir snitched on you for trying to give her conversion therapy. It had almost worked too). All in all, whatever Armin’s going through is none of your business and you’d like to keep it that way.  


  
”Do I have to?” You monotone, lips flattened in a disappointed, straight line.  


  
Somehow, his expression droops even lower and becomes even more shy. You try not to pummel him in the jaw and call it a night.  


  
”It would be nice of you.”  


  
_I’m so sick of the Shiganshina roaches...you get rid of one and another pops up in its place. Fuck. Off._  


  
But Armin has this softness about him, something that warms your heart and kind of makes you feel sorry for him, too. He’s so sweet and scrawny and he’ll probably die on the first expedition. Might as well humour him before he becomes titan fodder.  


  
”Spill it.” You sigh, dragging your feet as you make your way next to him.  


  
The sky is getting brighter now, the stars fading out distantly and you understand that you probably won’t be getting anymore sleep. Damn.  


  
Armin blinks at you, seemingly surprised that you actually decided to hear him out. You’re not a particularly nice person so you’ve can’t blame him for that but if the last day has taught you anything, it’s that no one has the slightest bit of fucking faith in you.  


  
_Whatever...I’m too pretty to do actual work anyways. They chose books and I chose looks._  


  
”Well,” He begins his speech. You try not to yawn in his face but it somewhat fails. Your lips quiver way too hard for him to not notice. “—I couldn’t sleep because I was thinking.”  


  
That’s it?  


  
Oh right. Armin has that whole ‘tortured genius’ thing going for himself. Yikes. You don’t really know how to respond. Personally, you’re not a big fan of thinking and don’t do it often, yourself, so cooking up some consoling slop for Armin to eat up is proving harder than you thought it would be.  


  
”...Uh....what about?”  


  
He smiles wider at that, his eyes growing larger with it.  


  
”Everything.”  


  
Say pause. You still for a slight moment, wondering how the fuck to dignify that with a response. Couldn’t he have said the weather or something? Why does everything have to be so deep and emotional with him? He is not the Aristotle he thinks he is.  


  
As you’ve already mentioned, you don’t think very much. In fact, you’re more of an ‘ _act first, think later_ ’ type of girlie. It might cause some issues for you along the way (and add considerably to your already lengthy criminal record), but there’s certain kind of fun to found in a jail holding cell with your tits out on a Thursday evening that you can’t find anywhere else.  


  
You really want to go back to sleep.  


  
”Everything?” You settle for parroting him, rubbing at your eyes and picking the crust out of them.  


  
”Yeah, everything. Things that have happened, things that haven’t...our friends. Graduation is coming up soon. Everyone that we’ve lived with, all of our friends...we’re all going off to different factions. It makes me kind of sad. I feel like we’re never going to see any of them ever again.” He frowns, in a way that would be cute if you weren’t so emotionally constipated.  


  
”I mean, you kind of aren’t,” You begin and he looks up at you, a horrified although slight furrowing to his brows. What did he expect, coming to you for comfort? “—But that’s not a...bad thing? I...um...it’s normal, ain’t it? It’s the way life is. You make friends and you lose them too. It just really be like that.” You throw in a peace sign and a pout for good measure. Armin nods, pensively.  


  
”Yeah, you’re right. I’m thinking into it too much.” He agrees quietly, before falling into another thoughtful silence. Thank fuck that worked out. You had no idea what you were saying.  


  
”Yup.” And, once again, Armin decides to play mute and falls back into his thoughts. What the hell is he thinking about that could be more important than you?  


  
After a long, boring moment, you decide give make your break for freedom. Straightening out your back and giving a tired sigh, you try to worm your way back to camp. Sadly, Armin’s big fat gob has other plans for you.  


  
”So you’re set on going to the Scouts, then?” He tries, conversationally.  


  
_Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh go away stupid._  


  
You smile, brightly, and try to appear as enthusiastic as possible. It doesn’t really require much effort because a baddie like you is good at everything. Except maths, that’s hard but hey—what gay _is_ good at it?  


  
”Yeah. That’s me. You too, right? With Eren and Ackerman?” You gesture at him, a toothy grin on your face. Armin doesn’t seem to notice it, his own expression falling in a subtly worried look.  


  
_Oh balls. I just triggered him, didn’t I?_  


  
”—It’s nice that your friends are going with you. I’m still sure not about where Ymir and Christa are going.” You add on, in hopes that your own ‘insecurities’ (you genuinely don’t care where Ymir is going) will make him feel better. He doesn’t seem mean enough for it to work but it’s worth a try.  


  
”Yeah, I’m lucky in that sense. I’ve known them since I was child. I grew up with Eren, known him since I was three or four. I never thought I’d make it this far with them.” There’s something sad in Armin’s words and although you don’t appreciate how it’s ruining your own vibe, you’re still nosy enough to dig deeper.  


  
”What did you think would happen?”  


  
At this, he pauses in consideration. A cold, solemn look clouds his features. Your stomach hurts. Maybe you shouldn’t have had that deer for dinner.  


  
”That I’d get left behind,” He rasps, voice muffled lightly by the summer breeze. “—I’m not strong like them, or brave. I hold them back, a lot of the time. It makes sense that they’re have to leave me behind, eventually. Or forget me.”  


  
Well, shit then.  


  
You wrack your brain for something intelligent, or profound or even mildly comforting but what in dick can you say to someone who’s spilling their deepest secrets to you when you barely know them?  


  
_I wanted tea, not his childhood trauma. He couldn’t given me something juicy? Nothing interesting to say at all: no secret baby mamas or crack addictions...just straight up low-self esteem. Fuck sakes, I hate it here._  


  
”Armin,” You smile at in him in a very particular way—the kind of smile that leaves boys weak at the knees and begging for spare coochie. “—Your mind is your power. It’s different to what Eren and Mikasa have, but it’s equally as important.”  


  
He gasps, taken aback by your words of wisdom. You try not to gasp too because, shit, you really weren’t expecting that. That was poetry, that was music, that was absolute barz luv.  


  
He stares at you, eyes more blue than ever before. They scan you, taking in every inch of skin, every lock of hair, every curve of bone. You feel somewhat violated by it but say nothing because he’s clearly going through it, right now.  


  
”You’re very pretty.”  


  
He speaks at last. Weirdly enough, it isn’t perverted or suggestive. He doesn’t sound like he wants to nosedive into your clit when he says it. More like he’s making a scientific observation or stating a fact.  


  
”Am I?”  


  
Oh great, now he’s gone and awoken the whore in you. Looks like tonight won’t be so dickless, after all.  


  
”Yes,” He nods. “—Very.”  


  
You blink at him, not wanting to come onto him too strongly because you’re not sure if he has his inhaler on him and you’ve don’t want to be responsible for his untimely death.  


  
”Armin,” You start slowly, batting your eyelashes. “—Is there something you’d like to do about that?”  


  
He thinks about it again, always thinking thinking thinking and it’s so fucking annoying. You have half a mind to push him over and walk back to camp just to crack open Reiner’s bootycheeks.  


  
”Yes, but I can’t. Bro-code, in section twenty one-thirty two, expresses the importance of the homies over hoes policy. In the event that I get the opportunity to be romantically or sexually involved with the same hoe that a homie of mine used to be with, I should decline. That way, I don’t break the trust of my homies and stay clear of any thots.”  


  
He didn’t need to get all technical about it.  


  
_Did he just call me a thot? Cut the cameras...deadass._  


  
”That policy is outdated, Armin. Besides,” You smile, brushing a bright lock of hair out of his eyes. “—You’re not violating anything if no one finds out.”  


  
He lets out a weak hum of agreement. You’re even more tired than before.  


  
“Armin, it’s completely your choice. We don’t have to do anything. In fact, I don’t really want to. My stummy hurts, I think I needa take a dump.” You grimace. Deer was definitely the wrong option. You wouldn’t be surprised if Jean the fuckhead poisoned it.  


  
Armin deliberates internally, face scrunching up in the moonlight. If a mountain lion jumped on him in this very moment, you’d probably just stand and watch purely because of how he insists on wasting your time.  


  
_I’m a busy bitch. Can he get a move on?_  


  
”Just a kiss,” He grows some balls, at last, and you perk up. _Finally_. “—Just a kiss.”  


  
And boy will you be happy to leave it at that because if there’s one thing you’ve learned about Shiganshina boys, it’s that they form romantic attachments at an alarmingly fast rate. They don’t seem to drop them either.  


  
Apparently, Eren’s receiving therapy because your relationship opened up some ‘old wounds’. If the old wound was him being a little bitch, then sure, but you don’t see how you were the problem.  


  
You both lean in, lips connecting gently. It’s nice, for a small moment, until you open your eyes and realise he’s staring right at you. His mouth hasn’t moved an inch, firmly clamped shut. He breathes so heavily through his nose, it almost sounds like he’s snorting. You scream against his lips, jerking back.  


  
He smiles at you, a heavy blush collecting on his cheeks and unaware of your horror. What the fuck is wrong with him? He’s like a blond Chucky doll.  


  
”Wow,” he breathes out. “—That was amazing...”  


  
And then it hits you. This is the same guy who shivers when someone says the word ‘vagina’. You were giving way too much credit to begin with.  


  
”Um.”  


  
”Oh,” he gasps, expressions suddenly twisting worriedly. His eyes pop out, freakishly. “—We...we didn’t use protection. You’re not... _pregnant_ , are you?” He whispers the word, as though the woodland plants are gonna snitch to his homies about the mind-blowing _peck_ you just shared.  


  
_And to think, he’s the smartest out of all of us._ You resist how every fibre within you wants to head-butt him back to Wall Maria.  


  
”Yeah. We’re gonna be parents.” You pat your stomach tenderly. He suddenly looks incredibly pale.  


  
”What? Seriously? I’m not ready for that sort of responsibility!” He whisper-shouts, hands beginning to tremble uncontrollably.  


  
The lipster sounds way too breathless for your liking and you don’t want to ever put your mouth near him again, even if he’s having a stroke and needs CPR. Quickly, you backtrack.  


  
”No! No, look,” You sigh, rubbing your eyes one last time. “—I’m gonna go take a shit. This was nice. Uhhhh, don’t ever talk to me again.”  


  
If he responds then you don’t hear it, being much too engrossed in finding a tree that needs fertilising.  


~

  
”Well well well,” Jean begins his verbal assault. “—If it isn’t our resident cock-collector! I woke up and saw you were missing last night. Kind of hoped the wolves got you.”  


  
You roll your eyes, tying up your hair before smoothing out the creases in your jacket.  


  
”Ask your dad where I was. He’ll know.”  


  
”He’s dead.”  


  
”Because I sucked him dry.”  


  
” _Please_ ,” Bertie speaks up with an imploring look in his face. “—brothers and sisters, the good Lord tells us that only fools give full vent to their rage. Shut up and let me eat my breakfast in peace.”  


  
Jean blinks in disbelief and you smile.  


  
”Yeah, Jean. Only fools give full vent to their anger.” You show off your teeth in a proud grin. He mimics you in stupid voice.  


  
“ _Only fools give full vent their—_ shut the fuck up,” He gives you the once over before rolling his eyes. “—You don’t care about religious scripture!”  


  
You decide to respond with a wink and lick of your lips, earning a satisfying groan of disgust. Reiner and Armin come running through trees, squeaking in excitement and waving a crimson flag.  


  
”Come on Amy, quick!” Reiner shouts out, gesturing for Armin to hurry up. “—Guys, we found the flag! [Y/N]’s navigational skills weren’t bad at all. In fact, she lead us directly to where we needed to be.”  


  
_I did?_  


  
”We completed the mission. We can start our journey home now!” Armin nods in excitement, being the unofficial leader of the group. Kind of suspicious for an Aryan but you don’t have it in you to comment.  


  
Everyone packs up quickly, eager to win the race back to the training corps. You stand firmly in place, staring at the leaves beneath you.  


  
”[Y/N]?” Armin calls out. “—Come on, we’re going home.”  


  
You shake your head no. The rest of the boys look back at you, confused.  


  
”What is it, now? Did you start your period or something?” Jean taunts with a roll of his eyes.  


  
You laugh, coldly.  


  
”All the shit you gave me for ‘getting you guys lost’, the way you argued with me—the way you _insulted_ me...” You brood, hair falling in your dark, hooded eyes.  


  
“Peepee poopoo, get over it,” Jean gestures to the trees behind him with his thumb. “—I wanna go home. Hurry up.”  


  
”Home? Believe me, Jeanie, that’s the last place you’re going.” You smile so widely that the Jean physically shivers at the sight of it.  


  
His haughty, carefree air dissipates into nothing more than chicken-shit motherfucking fear. It makes you smile brighter, tighter, with your face stiffening at the sight of him.  


  
”Babe, maybe we should talk about this later...come on, let go home and do some lines...” Reiner cringes, never being one for confrontation. You’re too enraged to care.  


  
”I don’t like your attitude much.” You comment simply, eyes planted darkly on the long headed fuck in front of you.  


  
”Um. I’m sorry?” He tries, but it’s insincere and flat.  


  
”Jean,” You stalk up to him quietly. He moves back with each step you take forward. “—Only fools give full vent to their anger...but when I ever been anything _less_ than foolish?”  


  
You jump on-top of him, kicking the shit out his intestines. The rest of the guys watch on the sidelines because:  


  
A) it’s pretty entertaining and B) Jean deserves it.  


  
When you both get back to camp, Jean nurses a black eye, split lip and bruised rib cage whilst you have a nasty cut on your cheekbone. The official story is that you both tripped down a hill but Connie suspects differently.  



	7. We’re channeling 2007 Britney Spears

  
“Y’all come look at this! [Y/N]’s eating discharge for breakfast!” Ymir’s obnoxiously big trap is the first thing to greet you upon taking your place at the table.  


  
Rubbing your head, you squint at your _deliciously nutritious_ smoothie bowl.  


  
_I hate her oversized jaw._ You think sourly, whilst trying to recall the name of the conversion therapy camp down the road.  


  
It would be a real shame if someone informed them of her existence. It would be an even bigger shame if she mysteriously disappeared, only to return a heterosexual after being enrolled in their three year-pray-away-the-gay course (Bertolt sends them regular donations and he only supports the _finest_ of homophobic establishments so you’re certain she’d come back a hetty).  


  
Sounds like a great plan. In the mean time, you can work your magic on Christa and with her oversized strap-on out of the picture, you’re certain she’ll fall for you in no time! Ha. Maybe, if you’re feeling especially kind Ymir can be the maid of honour at your wedding. Wouldn’t that be angsty fanfic material?  


  
“All locally sourced from your piss flaps!” You sneer with a wide smile, watching Ymir’s stupid face fall at your wittiness and overall supremacy. Mikasa frowns from beneath her scarf.  


  
”Shut up,” She begins coldly. You don’t miss how she grimaces at your breakfast bowl. “—I don’t know how you expect to be soldiers with your lack of discipline. Your inability to be civil to one another sickens me.” Her pale fingers tap lightly against the table as she gives you and Ymir a truly terrifying look.  


  
Mikasa is incredibly talented at pretending to hate you but you can’t help but wonder when she’ll drop the act. A baddie b like you is beloved by everyone— _everyone_ —and Bruce Lee in a wig and training bra is no exception.  


  
If only the acting industry were kinder to people of colour...you’re sure she’d be snagging every award known to humanity.  


  
_Non-inclusive bastards..._ You seethe. Fuck racists.  


  
”Am I missing something here? Eren’s cornhole is over there,” You point to his table where he and Armin sit in awkward silence. Yikes. Did blondie confess his sins? “—Not here luv. You’ve taken a wrong turn.”  


  
Mikasa opens her mouth, presumably to threaten your life, but is cut off by Christa’s high laughter.  


  
”Ahahahahahahahahahahaha,” She begins articulately. “—You’re such a a joker, always telling jokes like jokers do! What a joke to tell because you enjoy joking!” She physically pales at the sight of Mikasa’s clenched fist and gritted teeth.  


  
Once again, you doubt that _Mika_ has a good dental plan so she’d better quit that habit whilst she still can.  


  
“Yeah...” You take a spoon full of smoothie bowl and try not to have an actual fucking aneurism. How this genuinely tastes like cock and ball torture is beyond you.  


  
You don’t know whether you should be disgusted or amused at how the kitchen managed to get that sort of flavour into their food. Kudos to them for destroying your tastebuds, either way. Maybe you should’ve stuck to your supermodel coke diet.  


  
”Eren and I...had a falling out,” Mikasa speaks up, ready to pee pee poo poo it up with her fugly little sob stories. All you hear is wah wah wah. It’s so boring. Can’t she just have a nip slip or something? “—He claims that I’m stunting his personal growth.”  


  
She looks a little upset, nose scrunching up uncomfortably. It’s kind of pathetic but maybe if you’re nice to her she’ll let you smash.  


  
”Anime protagonists are like that, boo.” You try to comfort her but she only looks at you like you belong in a straight jacket—which according to several state ordained tests, you do. But fuck the system. You’re not going to let them kill your vibe like that.  


  
_Severe nymphomania with histrionic tendencies and delusions of grandeur, my ass. They just wanna take a real bitch like me off the streets._  


  
”Ani—what?” She cocks a confused brow, eyes creasing and lips pressing flat against each other.  


  
”Anime. Come on. You’re Japanese, aren’t you? How do you not know what anime is?” It’s pitiful how watch how people have been brainwashed by Western imperialism, ultimately forgetting the true colour and vibrancy of their own heritage. Poor girl. She probably doesn’t know what a Nintendo is either.  


  
_Don’t worry, Mika, I’ll teach you everything you need to know._  


  
”You’re not making any sense, per the usual.” She blinks at you before allowing her eyes to slide over to Eren again. Lol. You’ve been there and done that.  


  
”Repeat after me: _Hon-da civ-ic_.” You break the word down carefully, like the kind, pleasant, attractive, generous, sexy, fat-assed queenie you are.  


  
It’s not her fault that she’s an uneducated, uncultured, unrefined pig. After all, her mother _was_ brutally murdered before she got the chance to teach little Mikasa to say ‘itadakimasu’ prior to gobbling her Shiganshina crumbs up. This is most likely the first time in ages that she’s come into close contact with her heritage. It’s best that you ease her into it. She’ll be cultured and woke like you in no time!  


  
Ymir rolls her eyes as she takes a bite of bread. It’s white bread, fully of carbs and overall nastiness. You, being the dietary icon you are, could never relate. Slurping smoothly on your smoothie concoction, you stifle the desire to literally die.  


  
”Ignore her, Ackerman. She’s probably having a bad acid trip.” She states matter-of-factly and Christa nods as though it validates anything that has just (or ever) come out of her mouth.  


  
”Mm.” Mikasa hums in response, still staring at Eren. You fume, face reddening in not-embarrassment because you’re a bad bitch and bitches don’t get embarrassed. The only thing you get money and honeys.  


  
“Last time I try to be nice.” You mutter, flipping off a pleased looking Ymir.  


  
”You...nice? Ha, you’re too much of a stinking bitch for that.” She snorts like peppa pig with a sinus infection. You don’t bother responding.  


  
_You carpet-munching toad, I hope you haven’t got any plans for the summer...because I’ve got a nice ticket to camp waiting for you._  


~

  
You don’t want to be dramatic but you’re almost certain that you’re having a heart attack.  


  
”What do you mean you won’t be my side hoes anymore because I’m a complete and utter bitch?” You squawk in disbelief.  


  
”We mean we won’t be your side hoes anymore because you’re a complete and utter bitch.” Thomas explains whilst Mina nods next to him in a sick, ugly YumiKuri impersonation.  


  
_Plagiarism tingz,_ You think a little sadly. People are so uncreative these days. The scissor sisters’ legal team will be hearing about this.  


  
”Uhhhhhhh, you will.” Is this how rich folk felt when the lower classes tried to rise against them? Treacherous, rag-wearing, stinky-breathed, low-class, dead-skin-cell-having weirdos. All you’ve ever done is respect them and treat them as you, yourself, would want to be treated! What could’ve possibly warranted their protests against you?  


  
”I can assure that we won’t.”  


  
”I can assure you that you will.”  


  
”We really won’t.”  


  
”Methinks you will!” You try for a final time, flashing them your brightest smile. Being the Thanos of pussy destroying hasn’t come without it’s challenges but you haven’t earned the title for nothing!  


  
Your charm is completely unmatched, your beauty is unparalleled, your—  


  
” _Wethinks_ we won’t.” Mina pipes up at last, an irritated glower weighing down her features. Come to think of it, Thomas looks pretty irritated too. Who bit their ballsacks?  


  
You can’t believe their audacity. Who the hell would give up on your plump, delicious, iconic pussy? Especially over something as unimportant as personality? Your poor, fragile heart is shattering in your chest, the cold sting of rejection swarming through your blood stream and you wonder is this how ugly people feel?  


  
Suddenly, you understand why Jean’s so bitter all the time.  


  
”Okay...” You nod in understanding. “—But _why_?” Collectively, they let out a groan so loud that it manages to spook off a few birds their branches. You frown slightly. 

  
_People these days...no respect for Mother Nature._  


  
”We just told you! Are you on crack?” Mina asks before wincing upon seeing your mouth open in response. “—Don’t answer that.” She sighs, collecting her thoughts before ripping your slutty heart out of your chest and doing the Irish jig all over it.  


  
”—We just don’t want to fuck you anymore. We feel as though you’re rude and demeaning and all you use us for is sex. You don’t even bother to look at us when you’re not in the mood. Last week, I tried to ask you when final exams are and you ran away.”  


  
”I must not have seen you.”  


  
”You shouted ‘oh shit, it’s Mina’ and looked me dead in the eye...for the whole run.” She narrows her eyes harshly. What a stalker. You can’t believe she even remembers that.  


  
If you were a prissy little bitch baby worm like Armin or Eren or Marco then she might’ve upset you to the point of tears. Luckily, you’re a bad bitch (and not an accursed teen boy) like Mikasa and Annie and Christa so you respond with a firmly balled fist and proud stance.  


  
Clearly, she’s lying through her teeth. You’re the nicest person around. There’s not even slightest fibre of ‘bitch’ within you—only generosity and communist spirit. You’ve never demeaned her, despite her freakishly tough hymen (fingering her is literally like fingering the walls), not to mention how long it takes for her to bust a nut. That shit is so exhausting it should be considered an Olympic sport but you have yet to complain about it.  


  
Why?  


  
Because you’re _not_ a bitch.  


  
”Well well well, look who grew a pair of balls next to her obese clitoris,” You cross your arms tersely, suddenly feeling extremely attacked. “—So what if I ignore you? Our arrangement is called _acquaintances with benefits_. Not friends. Not bffies. Not besties. You knew what you were getting into!” Fuck, you made a fatal error (the first in your lifetime, of course) by not drawing up a legal contract binding them to you.  


  
They could’ve been in court telling it to judge instead but your distain for the legal system got in the way. You can’t help it though. With their nosiness and hatred for innocent chemistry, they’ve taken so many quality dealers off of the streets. If they ever get to Hange and her vodka-Vicodin cocktail (cleverly named vodka), you swear you’ll find the colossal titan yourself and _help_ him crack the walls open.  


  
”You’re right, we did. But now,” Thomas gestures to him and Mina. “—We’re dating and we’re _not_ poly. Before, we had to put up with your shit personality for the sex and, believe me, it was really good sex but we have each other for that now. You’re cancelled. Sorry.” He adds an flat apology although it barely holds any meaning.  


  
_My side bitches...my side bitches cheated on me?_  


  
This world is rotten. Rotten to the core. It needs a purging. A cleansing. Oh, to have a murder weapon that would have leave no traces back to you. Maybe something like a book or notepad in which you could write people’s names you hate and they’d drop dead like the measly flies they are. The injustices you would solve, the criminals you would rid this Earth of—  


  
Something tells you it would lead to a huge copyright lawsuit. Maybe it’s best to scrap that fantasy.  


  
“You’re dating...” You breathe out, fingertips trembling at the terrible news.  


  
”Yuh.” Mina reaffirms. You sit weakly in the grass beneath you. This is all too much to handle. You don’t want to be dramatic but you’re almost certain that what you’re experiencing is an aortal aneurism.  


  
”My side hoes...have fraternised?” You blink in hazy, delirious confusion. What you wouldn’t do for a nice bottle of vodka right now.  


  
”Ex-side hoes but you’ve got the right idea.”  


  
You peer down at your shaking hands. They’re partially shrouded in the shade of a high oak tree, their shadows rising and falling in a complete loss of control. With these hands, you brought them pleasure. With these hands, you have betrayed yourself.  


  
”Fuck y’all! The pair of you couldn’t even make the top thirty in my list of best booty calls. I wish I never added you to my prestigious body count!” You huff, turning your nose up at them. Your side profile is magnificent and it would be a tragedy if thy didn’t get to look upon it one last time. “—I should’ve known better than to hook up with a lame ass pair of supporting characters anyways.”  


  
You haul your plump ass up and begin your trek to the latrines for a mental breakdown.  


  
What are you even doing here entertaining their clownery? They didn’t get enough screen time to have the sort of attitude they have. They’re ungrateful and have no clout. Your blessed, gilded pussy was too good for them—in fact, it’s _their_ loss! Not yours! You should be planning your next pregnancy scare instead of wasting time arguing with them.  


  
”Huh?” They look to each other in confusion. It doesn’t phase you. Of course they wouldn’t understand, they’re not higher beings like you. They’re foolish mortals who were nothing before you and your top-tier pussy game came into the picture.  


  
Thomas was a stinking incel and Mina didn’t know that shaving her pubes constituted as personal hygiene. The amount of time that bitch’s pubes gave you carpet burn...she’ll pay for this. They all will. Capitalist scum!  


“—It’s all fun and games until you slip a finger in her and end up _breaking_ it. Good luck explaining that to the nurse, Tommo!” You screech, turning your head back at the happy couple and sticking your tongue out.  


  
_Whatever. The fact that they’re dating yet still took the time out to tell me I’m cancelled...I’m living in these bitches mind’s rent free._  


  
The fact that you’re down two side hoes is undoubtedly traumatising. Now you’re going to need to look for replacements and the application process is always so long and tiresome. You’ll need to look through the candidates’ resumes and prior history of experience—after all, you only accept the most excellent of side pieces.  


  
Then again, it’s not long until graduation and you’re bound to find a plethora of ass cheeks to enjoy there. They’ll be tougher too and more experienced than the gross whiny teen brats that you’re currently forced to bump uglies with.  


  
Mid-trod to the latrines, you catch the CEO of virginity commonly known as Armin. Just despicable. As if thinking about the gross whiny teen brats wasn’t bad enough, now you actually have to face another one of them.  


  
”Back for round two?” He comments coyly, pulling the book in his hands closer to his chest (is that Mein Kampf?)  


  
”Ew. Shut up.” You roll your eyes and continue your walk of shame. It isn’t until he’s a fairly good distance from you that the realisation hits you.  


  
”Hey Armin,” Turning on your heel, you call for him. Naturally, aryan shroom head comes running in hopes of receiving another smooch. As if you’d ever donate your lips to his sorry ass cause ever again.  


  
”—Am I a bitch?” You ask him seriously and he seems somewhat taken aback, as well as visibly disappointed by your question given how much his body has deflated.  


  
His desperation is kind of funny in a pathetic sort of way. His shoulders have shrunk so much that he looks like he should be ringing the bell at Notre Dame tower. Lol. It’s what he deserves for simping over you when his moves in the forest almost gave you schizotypal breakdown.  


  
”Um...do you want me to tell the truth or...?” He trails off awkwardly, scratching his head. Well that answers that.  


  
_And if I go on a murder spree after this, they’d call me the bad guy._  


  
“Oh. It’s—it’s cool.” You nod, before turning in the other direction. Armin asks you if you’re sure but you can’t be bothered to answer.  


  
Jesus was right.  


  
Bitches ain’t shit. Even though you found it within your heart to listen to his piddly ass problems and kiss him (which you consider to be charity work), he still won’t vouch for your character. He’s just as rotten as the rest of the ratatouille network you call your comrades—perhaps even worse because he pretends to be all sweet and unassuming with his stupid gestapo cosplay. You know better though.  


  
You’re not a bad person. You’re not a bitch. You’re not a bitch but you can’t help but feel like one. This strange, terrible self-doubt that weighs in your chest—you want to get rid of it.  


  
You’re sick of people treating you like you’re vaginal Hitler. In the back of your pea-sized mind, you realise that it may be time to change your ways.  


~  


  
Standing at the entrance with a fat wad of cash that just as easily could go towards drugs, alcohol and anything else you could overdose on and die, you sigh.  


  
”This better be fucking worth it!” You grumble, walking through the gates. “—Debt collectors gonna eat my ass after this. I’m gonna have change my name and move to underground.”  


~

  
”Ew. Look what she’s eating again. Pussy flavoured goop.” Ymir cackles at your smoothie bowl but today is a new day. You won’t let her get to you so easily.  


  
The old, bitchy you would’ve told her that you collected it whilst being balls deep in Christa’s guts last night. The new reformed you will only respond with positivity and kindness, no matter how tempting an insult referring to your urge to homewreck her entire relationship may be.  


  
You let out a high laugh before responding. Oh Ymir, she has such a way with words.  


  
”The goop is highly nutritious. I need all the strength I can get if I plan on joining the scouts. Graduation is next week, after all. Would you like to try some?” You flash a pearly smile. Ymir wrinkles her nose ~~like she snorted a bad line~~ in distaste.  


  
”I’d rather be a het.”  


  
”You look like one next to Christa, you man—“ You quickly yourself off with a loud, perhaps somewhat obnoxious laugh. “— _Ahahaha_! My apologies. I won’t offer you it again.” You force a spoon full of ~~battery acid flavoured~~ smoothie into your mouth and look to the floor sheepishly.  


  
_Gee wilikers! That was a close call! But they said falling back into old habits is a part of change. I just need to make an active effort to not relapse. I am not a bitch. I am not a bitch. I am not a bitch. I am not—_  


  
”Are you feeling okay?”  


  
Christa’s questioning tone grips you from your thoughts. Ymir, Christa, Sasha, Mikasa ~~and the tampon around her neck~~ are all staring at you. There was a time where you would have assumed it’s due to your incredibly good looks but you’ve since learned that there’s a plethora of different reasons as to why they’re so focused on you.  


  
_I am very pretty, though._  


  
“Perfect as a peach.” You smile before taking a sip of your smoothie bowl. Mm. You can really taste the mould. The flavour has a quality skin to ~~Shadis’ chimney breath~~ overly grilled meat. It’s rather unique.  


  
Ymir blinks at you confusedly before looking back at Christa. They seem to be communicating via eye contact. Creepy as it is, you can still respect how well they know each other as a couple.  


  
”Uh...how do you eat that shit?” Ymir speaks up after receiving a subtle nod from Christa. You smile pleasantly from behind your spoon.  


  
“Simple. I put it in my mouth and slurp.” You nod in acknowledgment and a particularly disturbed expression clouds Ymir’s face. Her eye twitches sporadically.  


  
Oh no. She looks somewhat sick. Perhaps you should offer to walk her to infirmary as it would be rather unfortunate if she passed out and banged her ~~megamind~~ moderately sized head onto the table. The old you would’ve definitely laughed at and celebrated such a tragedy but you’ve come so far once terms of being a more compassionate and empathetic soul.  


  
_I’ve truly come so far. Hurray for personal growth! I should celebrate tonight with a ginger ale._  


  
“You’d know all about that wouldn’t you, you peen-thief?” She presses on in her typically insulting manner although she seems much more desperate to piss you off. Christa doesn’t chide her, only staring at you in an equally perturbed way.  


  
Strange, really. If Ymir was sick then Christa would’ve undoubtedly picked up on it given how ~~they're constantly on the verge of dildo-ing each other down to the pits of hell~~ in love they are.  


  
”Ha, yes! I am rather promiscuous. I hadn’t realised my innuendo. Silly me.” You hum. It had been hard to not make a snide remark, perhaps something pertaining to her sexuality when you, too, are a member of the LGBT community, but your mind has matured since then. It’s been a long two days.  


  
_Disgraceful behaviour on my part. I hope I never become famous for fear of getting publicly cancelled. The amount of [Y/N] is over parties people would have...even a notes app apology couldn’t save me._  


  
”[L/N],” Mikasa speaks up at last. “—Did you hit your head somewhere?”  


  
”What? No, I’m not concussed. What makes you say that?” You quirk an innocently confused brow. You don’t understand and don’t get the chance to ask for any reasoning because Ymir ~~with fatass mosquito eyes~~ comes scrambling forward.  


  
“Call me a lezzy. Call me a lezzy.” Ymir repeats.  


  
Oh. So it’s about your change in speech? Your change in character? Well, this is most disappointing. You would’ve thought people would enjoy your newly formed calm demeanour and lack of public substance abuse. Of course, you’re still a coke-sniffing, blunt-smoking, shot-drinking, vodka-injecting (yeah, vodka injecting—you said what you said) addict but you’ve realised that it may make others uncomfortable if you flaunt such behaviours openly.  


  
Rehab is far too expensive. You’ve made peace with the fact that whilst you’re not a morally bankrupt bitch anymore—you can’t help your love for things that would imprison you.  


  
”I’m not going to be homophobic towards you,” You frown, watching how Mikasa opens her mouth to ask for some form of oppression. “—Or racially insensitive! I’m sorry but I’m not like that anymore. I’ve changed.”  


  
Why are they boo-hooing about the fact that you’re a better person? Perhaps, two days ago, you would’ve called them something along the lines of ‘mentally unstable pussy smugglers’ but now, you’ve found God and peace and stability.  


_  
What would Nonki Minach do?_ In times of crisis, you like to ask yourself what the mother of communism and bitches would do. Unfortunately, the introspection proves to be fruitless because you’re snapped out of your thoughts by a gasp.  


  
“Oh my God...I think I’m gonna faint...” Christa clings to Ymir’s jacket, voice weak and face flushed. You lean over the table, concern wracking you. Poor little Christa, why does she have to be unwell. ~~Why can’t it be that hag Ymir?~~  


  
”Christa, do I need to go and tell someone—“  


  
”You’re scaring her. She faints when she’s scared. Say something offensive! _Now_!” 

  
”No!”  


  
Ymir, despite being your friend, is a lesbian and they’re notorious for having bad judgment. If you listen to her then you’ll never be able to stop. You’ll relapse and the heterosexual etiquette class you paid for at the gay camp down the street will all have been for nothing!  


  
”Do it!”  


  
”No!”  


  
Sure, the money was acquired through insulting perverted old men for money and whilst that may not be the most ethical form of income—you worked mighty hard at it! It would be a shame to flush all of that down the shitter because Ymir has a thing for dirty talk.  


  
”You stupid hoebag! Insult me now!” She growls, holding onto a quivering Christa.  


  
You tremble, not completely sure of what the correlation between you being blatantly disrespectful and Christa’s wellbeing is.  


  
You look to Sasha for help but she’s balls deep in a plate of risotto. Huh? The kitchen wasn’t even serving that.  


  
”Perhaps medical attention would be best for—“ You squeal, only to be cut off by a harsh grip on your jaw.  


  
Mikasa holds onto you tightly, face serene and fingers rough. She comes in close and whispers to you.  


  
”Do it or I’ll crush your skull into powder and sell it.” Her breath tickles your nose softly.  


  
_Would it be rude if I asked her to make out with me?_  


  
”What are you uglies arguing about?” Jean’s amused sneer and equally as amused voice falls rings closely. You almost sing in joy. “—Wait, hold on? Mikasa...are you interested in that thot?” He looks horrified, placing his empty tray down onto the table in order to get a better view of what’s going on.  


  
_Ah. This probably looks extremely homoerotic._  


  
”Jean! Help me! They want me to act like a bitch! They want me to relapse!” You wiggle in Mikasa’s ~~Shiganshina lumberjack~~ grip and plead to him for assistance.  


  
Jean and you have always had a rocky relationship but he’s a good person at heart! Sure, you’ve had some arguments and made fun of strained relationship with his mother and mocked his long facial structure and tried to murder him in a remote woodland location but there’s no way he’d hold that against you—  


  
”You _are_ a bitch, though,” He rolls his eyes. “—Anyways, Mikasa did you hear me? You’re not into this J-bag are you?” He attempts to get her attention but she keeps her eyes focused on you.  


  
The old you would’ve been incredibly smug about being so close to her, especially in his presence. The new you needs to take a shit. Desperately.  


  
”If I have to repeat myself...” She warns, increasing the grip.  


  
You look at Christa, who seems rather panicked—fanning herself with a flimsy wrist. You’ve always liked Christa and have spent many nights imagining performing oral sex on her. Relapsing in Christa’s name would be an honour, you resolve.  


  
“... _Gay little bitch! God hates you_!” You whimper, half horny and half disappointed in yourself.  


  
Christa, who’s probably sick due to malnourishment because this is the middle fucking ages, smiles dully although still needs a trip to the infirmary. ~~Sentient heart disease~~ Sasha is still eating and Ymir grunts in approval like the ~~man~~ wonderfully expressive person she is.  


  
Mikasa lets go of your jaw and goes back to eating.  


  
”Yikes. I knew you were sick in the head but...” Jean picks up his tray and walks away, having accepted that Mikasa would rather date the roaches in her scarf than date him.  


  
”Don’t ever act like that again.” Ymir orders you and Mikasa backs up the statement with a firm ‘yeah’.  


  
You wonder what the fuck just happened, staring down at your smoothie bowl.  


  
_Tastes like shit anyways._  


~

  
”Oh not you, shitstain.” Shadis grumbles when he sees you walk into his office.  


  
Mayhaps you want to call him a bug eyed, bald Steve Buscemi reject. Mayhaps you want to question how such piece of shit could have possibly been given his own office to lounge around and act like a piece of shit in. Mayhaps you don’t.  


  
Instead, you nod politely and sit down in front of his desk.  


  
”What is it? Someone knocked you up?” He pops his eyes out at you and you resist the urge to gag because his breath smells like genuine depression. You give a small smile like the veteran fake bitch you are.  


  
”No, sir, I’m very adept at performing my own coat hanger abortions,” You clear your throat. “—I’m here to ask for your advice. I’ve been questioning my character recently and I was hoping you could...offer me some support?”  


  
He scratches his head as though it’s not as bald as Reiner’s left nut and gives you a disgusted look.  


  
”Little bitch, do I look like a guidance counsellor to you? Express your emotions through alcohol abuse like the rest of us. You’re not special, now get the hell out of my sight!” He waves a dismissive hand and goes back to counting the bottles of sherry behind him.  


  
_Oh balls. He’s the only one who can help. I need to stand my ground and if he doesn’t like it...I’ll go to the press and tell them all about him. He’s had to have broken at least three child labour laws._  


  
”Sir, not too long ago I had been informed that my personality is often perceived as...’bitch-like’.” You begin desperately, trying to stand your ground. The worst he’ll do is put you on latrine duty anyways.  


  
_He doesn’t smell your nose is just sensitive. He doesn’t smell your nose is just sensitive. He doesn’t smell your nose is just sensitive. He doesn’t—_  


  
”And whoever told you that would be absolutely fucking correct.” He grunts with a _closed_ mouth. You try not to rejoice and throw your hands up to the heavens. It would be incredibly improper.  


  
”Well, Sir, and forgive me if this comes across as bold or disrespectful but I believe you to have the same...’bitch-like’ disposition. Which is why I would like your advice.”  


  
It’s crickets as he stares you down. You try not to waver under his gaze. Yikes, this is awkward. You’ve definitely overstepped your boundaries. You’re going to be shipped home like the rest of the military flops and be stuck with the same old, tired village dick. This is terrible. This is horrific.  


  
You’ll probably have to get married off to a fifty year old farmer named John who makes awfully suspicious sounds when milking his prized cow Bessie. No walls. No freedom. No exotic clitty or dicky. No immigrant sucky or fucky.  


  
”I wanna be offended but I already know what a putrid little rat you are. Continue on, Cadet. I’ll see if I can help you, not that I have anything better to do.” He rolls his eyes and points at what is most probably his six-thousandth bottle of Sherry.  


  
_Where is the flavour? Where is the range? Where is the versatility? If he’s gonna give himself liver failure it might as well be over some good shit._  


  
”Sir, until recently, I had believed myself to be a perfect person. If you look at me, it would be safe to assume that I am. However, many of those around me had made it clear that my behaviour makes me unpleasant to be around. According to them, I am a bitch. Therefore, I decided to change.”  


  
”Heterosexual etiquette course?” He asks blandly. You gape a little.  


  
”Yes,” You stutter a little in shock. “—How did you know?”  


  
”Those Bible-thumping assfuckers have been around since I was a kid.” He grits out, face reddening in rage.  


  
”You were enrolled in their course?”  


  
He scowls bitterly, most probably due to some childhood trauma that you don’t give a flying fuck about.  


  
_Wait...what? I don’t care about his problems? But I spent so much time working on compassion. Ymir made me relapse so much harder than I thought and I’m only two days into my reformation! All that electric shock therapy was for nothing!_  


  
”Cadet, I’ve spent more time inside of that gay camp than I have inside of my wife. Believe me, they’ve always wanted to take down bitches like us. Hurry up with your story.” He braces his hands together and gives you his attention. You narrow your eyes at him...that statement was awfully... _homosexual_ of him.  


  
Truthfully, you’d like to make this as quick as possible too. The boys are going back to the barracks in twenty minutes and you want Marco to put in some work on your cheeks.  


  
”—After I changed, my friends seemed to be disturbed by my kindness. One physically collapsed and the others forced me to insult them,” You shiver, thinking about Mikasa’s monkey fingers around your skull. “—I don’t understand why they weren’t happy with me. I was milder and humbler and less bitch-like —isn’t that what they wanted?”  


  
Shadis sits in silence for a moment or two, processing the information you’ve given him. He then pulls out a bottle of sherry from behind him and pours it into a glass for himself.  


  
”Cadet Cocksuck, you are the most pathetic creature I’ve ever laid eyes upon,” He begins casually. “—Who the hell cares what they want you to be like? Being a whiny bitch is apart of your genetic code. You can’t help it so why change?” He downs his drink and sighs contently. There’s no feeling like acute liver hepatitis.  


  
”Yes sir.”  


  
”I’ll be honest, Cadet. Sometimes I look at you and wonder if you’re my long lost child. You seem like the exact sort of load I’d shoot into someone’s ass and still somehow get them pregnant. You’re brazen and selfish and an all around piece of shit—just like me. Hm,” He snorts amusedly. “—There isn’t a course in this world that change that about us, you stupid bitch.”  


  
You nod in agreement. The man, disgusting and mentally sick as he is, do be spitting doe.  


  
”Yes, sir. Looking back, it seemed like a waste of money.”  


  
”Exactly, dumbass. You could’ve bought yourself a weave or nails or a _vibrator_...whatever it is that you heinous girly bitches like these days. When I was your age, all you had to rely on was your hands and the microfibres from your mom’s bra to jack off with. You lucky turds will never know your privilege.” He grumbles miserably, chugging down another glass.  


  
”Uh...okay?”  


  
He burps and the smell is enough to burn your nostril hairs off. Swishing a hand through the air, he whistles in amazement at his own stench. You close your eyes because they’re literally fucking burning.  


  
”You done with identity crisis?” He monotones and you nod. “—Good. Now get the fuck out.”  


  
”Thanks sir. You’re a real one.”  


  
”Fuck off.”  


  
You pick yourself up, desperate to breathe fresh air. Lmao. You’re so silly sometimes. How could you ever forget your own perfection? And how the fuck did it take Shadis to remind you of it?  


  
Whatever, you’re a bad bitch with zero percent fat on her arms and one hundred percent fat on her ass. No one is ever going to change you again and that’s on nothing less than period.  


~  


  
”Back for round two?” Armin smiles at you with subtly puckered lips as you slam the door to boy’s barracks open.  


  
Generally, people are banned from entering the barracks of the opposite sex but Shadis knows there’s no stopping you. He learned longed ago that it’s either a blowwie in the barracks or a blowwie in his rose bushes. Due to the fact that sperm isn’t a particularly good fertiliser and that your fat ass squashes all of his plants, you’re shown certain leniences compared to band of sexless virgins that you live amongst.  


  
_And that’s the [Y/N] print, baby._  


  
”I’d rather shit in my own hands and clap.”  


  
”Ah. So you’re feeling better then?” He asks, simply.  


  
Man, you really can’t stand Arlert. He says the most annoying, insulting shit but because _he’s_ the one saying it, you can’t be mad. Not because you’re fond of him in any way, shape or form but purely because he’s so stupid. If you were a titan, you’d spit his ass out because he’s too worthless to even consume.  


  
_Ew, he’d probably give me food poisoning._  


  
“There was never anything wrong with me to begin with.” You close your eyes and cross your arms confidently.  


  
”You sure about that?” Jean’s ugly fugly fucking voice fills the air as the door clicks shut behind him. Ugh, just when your will to live has made return, _he_ has to show up.  


  
”Positive.”  


  
”I smell a liar...” He sing songs, giddying up on over to your back and placing his hooves on your shoulders.  


  
”I smell Equus Callabus: an odd-toed ungulate mammal belonging to the taxonomic family _Equid_...” You sing back to him. “—Where’s Marco? I pencilled him in for ten-fifteen titty fuck.”  


  
You try to escape his grip and brush his germs off of you but he increases his pressure and sticks you firmly in place. Armin the pussyclart went back to reading long ago so it’s not like he’d be much use either. He’s probably too weak to push Jean off, too.  


  
_This is how those weird shit eating sketches start out...I can just feel it. I’m gonna be the poster girl for one girl, one horse._  


  
”He’s in the infirmary. He ripped his pooper. Now, back to your mental instability,” You can just hear his nasty horse teeth clacking from behind you. “—How does it feel to be one breakdown away from a lobotomy?”  


  
“Suck my dick.” You’re too sober to be dealing with him right now. It’s ruining your comeback game.  


  
You hope he doesn’t catch the uncertainty in your voice but sadly, he’s an intelligent steed, and he does.  


  
”Why don’t you suck mine since Marco’s not showing up anytime soon?”  


  
You turn and face him. He looks way too proud of that lame line. Something in you wants to tell him that you’re not into bestiality but a sluttier, larger part of you is strangely impressed. It’s always ugly men running their mouths and you want to know where they find the confidence.  


  
”That was bold.”  


  
_Don’t fuck Jean. Don’t fuck him. Don’t do it you stupid ass bitch. Don’t fuck him—_  


  
”I like to live dangerously.” He replies smugly, obese mouth curling to the side.  


  
_Don’t fuck him. Don’t fuck Jean. He’s not worth even a drop of pussy juice. Don’t fuck Jean. Don’t fuck Jean—_  


  
You roll your eyes.  


  
_Don’t fuck him. He is so ugly. He stinks of his mom’s eggy rice. Don’t fuck him. Don’t fuck Jean. His egg smell is contagious. Don’t fuck him—_  


  
”So...what are you saying? Yah or nah?”  


  
_Don’t fuck Jean. Don’t fuck Jean. Don’t. Fuck Jean. Don’t. Fuck. Jean. Fuck jean. Fuck jean. Fuck Jean. Fuck Jean. Fuck Jean—  
_

  
”—I do enjoy a good horse ride...” You scratch your head in thought. “—Fuck it, I haven't made a bad decision all day. Wanna do it in the rose bushes?”  


  
”You could be nicer about it...” He pouts but because he’s clapped you don’t feel sorry for him.  


  
At least you’re ending the day with a bang.  



	8. Alcoholic tingz xx also the battle of trost part 1?? Idk I cba to write the whole battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys I’m watching bhna now after binge watching haikyuu so i couldn’t help but reference them 🙈🙈🙈also idc TODOROKI’S VOICE IS SEXIER THAN ERENS ?? Like the same mf voices them but it hits differently when todo speaks 
> 
> Anyways tell me what you think and what you want to see otherwise I’ll suck your toes off and sell them on the black market mwah xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

  
Sometimes you wonder if you truly belong in this universe. You’re far too good for all this scout-enlisting, Titan-killing, wall-reclaiming, bullshit yet here you are, having finally arrived in Trost—ready to enlist as a scout to kill Titans and reclaim the lost wall Maria.  


  
Well, that’s what it says on the _official_ itinerary.  


  
On your own, however, all that’s required of you is to get fucked up and knocked up—courtesy of the glue stick you plan on sniffing tonight and your many side hoes (although you have yet to replace Thomas and Mina). A celebration is due, after all your long-term dream isn’t far from becoming a reality.  


  
It’s the night before graduation and you’re just itching to get over those walls and ride off into the sunset, all to get the fingerblast of a lifetime.  


  
Not that it has anything to do with him because he’s still the scummiest creature you’ve ever known but ever since you fucked Jean in a rose bush and got fifty thorns up your ass, things have been going swimmingly.  


  
_Still wish I waited for Marco..._  


  
”Today’s been awesome, guys. I got free weed, a whole McDonald’s bread loaf and two thousand gold coins! It’s like this gun is magic!” You laugh, stuffing your pockets full of your riches.  


  
Sasha licks her lips.  


  
”You got free weed and two thousand gold coins...I dunno about that bread loaf though.” She stares at paper bag, dimly adorned with a wonky ‘M’ on it.  


  
As a communist, you only support small family businesses and pray that they never become successful enough to become major corporations. McDonald’s is your favourite from all of them—so much so that’s you’ve burned down their shop multiple times to prevent them from ever expanding and, today, ransacked their cash register. They don’t know it but you’re doing them a favour. Maybe when they die they’ll end up in communist heaven like you.  


  
”Put that rifle back in the wagon, [Y/N]!” Christa shrieks, snatching it out of your hands before you get the chance to do anything with it. She really shouldn’t be getting her fingerprints all over it but hey, who are you to stop her?  


  
If she goes to jail you doubt anything would happen to her. She’s too cute to be a lesbian prison bitch and the guards would almost certainly take pity on her.  


  
”—If Connie finds out you’ve been committing armed robberies without him, he’s gonna lose his shit! Also, stop threatening the general public.” She takes all the bullets out and packs them up again. You frown. It would’ve been nice to get a new purse too.  


  
”Fine. Fine. I guess you don’t want to see the rest of my robbery haul...” You grumble and look backwards, where all the testicle owning scum are.  


  
The fact that their wagon smells like sweat and male privilege both sickens and intrigues you. How is it possible to even produce that sort of stench? Ugh. Men truly are a plague upon this Earth and there isn’t a day where you don’t pray for their extinction.  


  
”I can’t believe you fucked my ex!” Eren groans, walking next to the two-toned fuck formally known as Jean. His hair dye might be bollocks but his dick was most definitely not.  


  
Turns out, everything about him is horse like. Including his eleven inch penis that you literally felt poke your brain at some point during your boning session. Not that you’d ever admit it to him. You’ll still tell him he has a micro-penis accompanied by a pea sized set of micro-balls.  


  
Reflecting back on what happened is terrifying and hilarious because usually all it takes is a moderately sized ding-dong and a complete and utter lack of morals to get you to be interested in a person. Jean has both of those qualities yet you still can’t help but want to barf at the thought of him. Even whilst he was fucking your brains out, you still couldn’t muster any sort of non-hostile emotion towards him.  


  
_”Open your eyes, dumbass. You look like you’re sleeping.” He panted on top of you, leaves rustling way too loudly for Shadis to have been unaware of your shenanigans._  


  
_”I am.” You screwed your eyes shut even tighter. Fuck sakes, you didn’t expect his stroke game to be so good. At the time, you remember distinctly thinking of calling the cops on him because the fact that he hid his dick from you was nothing less than a crime._  


  
_You didn’t know which one. Probably obstruction of justice. Either way, the idea of Jean in an orange jumpsuit and toothbrush shank in his hand made you feel really good._  


  
_He picked up the pace and you started coughing, partially because you didn’t anticipate his speed and partially because you’d have been damned if you ever let him think he could make you feel anything other than pity and nausea. Any moans that came from you were quickly masked as a moderate case of bronchitis._  


  
_Quiet sex, generally speaking, is awkward as hell which is why you were so eager to put a muzzle on it for the first time your life and be so damn quiet. Jeanphobia is real and a lifetime commitment—you’d have done anything to see that fucker squirm in discomfort, even if it meant sabotaging your own dick appointment._  


  
_“Open your fucking eyes, I feel like a necrophiliac.” He pinched your nose and you hissed, opening one irritated peeper._  


  
_”Stop talking to me weirdo. You’re making me dry up.” He huffed in the petty way that his petty ass does everything. You swore that you’d become an incel after this but the next thrust of his horse dick quickly destroyed that train of thought._  


  
_Even if Jesus himself had dropped down from the heavens to slap you in the teeth for having premarital sex, you doubt you would’ve dried up. The only reason why you refused to look at him was because you hated (and still hate) to see him happy, for both misandrist and Jeanphobic reasons._  


  
_“Whatever. Don’t talk to me either, then.” And you boned for the rest of the hour in silence until Shadis had come running towards the two of you with a shotgun and chased you out of his deformed bushes._  


  
It takes everything within not to have a cringe attack upon remembering the events of that fateful night. In your defence, you only fucked him because you were emotionally compromised and needed something to cheer you up. The clit wanted what it wanted and who were you to deny it?  
  


  
”I think you guys should settle this like men. Just putting that out there.” Connie informs Eren and Jean, who don’t bother responding to him.  


  
Eren, despite having not spoken to you since the iconic break up mission, is still as whiny a bitch as ever. He is so endlessly pathetic. Everyone knows you belong to the streets and yet he insists on whining about how you never truly invested yourself in the short albeit spicy relationship you shared.  


  
What couple cares about romance, anyways? You never invested your time in dates and flowery bullshit because you were too busy investing it in the two bowling balls he has the nerve to call his nutsack. Like you said, endlessly pathetic.  


  
”Everyone’s fucked your ex, Eren.” Jean rolls his eyes and you want to feel sorry for him but really don’t. In fact, you hope Eren bullies him some more just so you have something interesting to watch until he fucks off to the interior to live a long life of comfort.  


  
”Not true! Armin hasn’t!”  


  
” _Waaah-heehuuh_ ,” Hitler’s wet dream splutters, mouth full of water and flask shaking in his hand. “—Uh, about that...”  


  
”What the fuck? You too?” Eren gapes, watching the bro-code get doused in a litre of your pussy juice and go up in flames.  


  
He looks so betrayed and for what? Eren truly has issues with closure—which you already knew because he can’t go five seconds without crying about how his family became an all-you-can-eat buffet five years ago but it’s getting so lame. Can’t he come up with something new?  


  
The only thing that would make you slide back into his lane was if he died and left you a huge sum of money in his will. Or if he grew his hair long and tied it into a manbun, but you can’t see that happening any time soon.  


  
”It was a _light_ peck although I regret to tell you that we didn’t use protection...” He shakes his head, ashamed at his own actions and honestly, you agree. Kissing you was extremely low of him. He ain’t shit.  


  
_Men...they have no loyalty._  


  
“You’re all bastards!” Eren proclaims and it’s sort of funny because he’s the only one without a dad.  


  
The boys bicker back and forth with Connie giving them subtle encouragements. Eventually some big military guy comes along and screams at you all to unload the boxes faster as opposed to lying around on the wagons like wastes of spunk. Naturally, it’s enough to get all of you to work.  


  
Looking up at the city of Trost and the wall that surrounds it, you feel a wave of excitement wash over you. The future looks bright.  


~

  
Turns out the titans broke into the city earlier this morning. So much for a bright fucking future.  


  
”You dumb bitch, you slept through half the battle!” Jean yelps, dragging you through the air as he swings from rooftop to rooftop. You pull your nightgown around you tighter, trying to process what the dick is going on.  


  
Wincing mid-yawn, you feel your head ache even harder. On a regular day, his voice is enough to give you brain damage but after the night you had...getting a train run on you by five cockless titans sounds more appealing than listening to his incessant whining.  


  
”Ugh,” You groan, rubbing your eye. “—Listen, I’m really hungover and you’re talking way too loudly for my liking. Take it down a notch. Or several.”  


  
He looks at you in a strange mixture disbelief, confusion and terror.  


  
”Our friends are being eaten alive!”  


  
”Sounds like a _them_ problem.” You rest your head against a chimney as he lets you go, presumably in the hopes that a titan will come and chomp your ass up.  


  
Armin quivers next to you, drenched in blood and guts. It’s extremely stinky. You wish you had stayed in bed. All of this drama isn’t good for the raging assfuck of headache you have or the delicacy of your vibe.  


  
_I should’ve taken it easier with those shots last night. Damn it, I was chugging jaeger bombs like apple juice._  


  
”He’s...he’s...” He whimpers uncontrollably, head trembling like a portobello mushroom in the wind.  


  
”Ready for round two?” You snort and he looks at you, pausing his mental breakdown to blink at you in disturbed confusion.  


  
You don’t care about the what occasion is, clowning Armin will always be fun.  


  
He looks seriously scarred for life and even Connie’s watching him closely and concernedly. Jean’s trying to calm him down but you’re sure the sight of a giant horse head on human legs is triggering Armin ten times more.  


  
The 104th losing their most strategically promising mind to mid-battle meltdown doesn’t sound particularly fun so you decide to lend a helping hand.  


  
”Armin, can you hear me bro? How many fingers am I holding up? I’ll give you a hint if you like—“ You fling Connie by the big bald head and tut disappointedly. He’s so useless that it physically pains you but hey—that’s men for you.  


  
”He’s having a panic attack, not a stroke!” You groan annoyedly. “—Move, male scum. All he needs is a womanly touch and he’ll be right as rain.”  


  
You approach Armin, watching him tremble so violently that you have to blink because he looks freakishly like your bullet vibrator. It’s the migraine, you tell yourself. You’re not a pervert.  


  
”...Can you hear me? Look at my fingers, how many am I holding up?” You murmur quietly so the guys don’t hear.  


  
It doesn’t seem to work, as expected because Armin maintains his vacant, terrified expression and disturbed mumbling. You already knew that, though.  


  
”H-he...he-he owed m-m-m-me five g-gold co-coins...” Flat chested Christa cries into his palm, shifting to the side for a moment.  


  
_Damn. What bum died without paying up?_ You try not to laugh, letting out a wheeze instead and give him the once over again.  


  
The only time you’ve had to look after someone was when you did naughty nurse role-play with Reiner and ended up spanking him too hard. He was too embarrassed to go to the infirmary so you had to sneak out and steal an ice pack for his swollen ass cheeks. You’d done an excellent job of it and even Reiner, himself, stopped being mad at you when you explained the issue to him.  


  
Sure, you had almost slapped the steroids out of him _but_ he had gotten a free Brazilian buttlift so it’s safe to say every thing worked out just peachy in the end. Good times.  


  
”Anyways, you wanna calm down yet?” You frown. Making people feel better isn’t your area of expertise. Making people feel considerably _worse_ , however, you’re wonderful at.  


  
You’re sure that you could make him spiral into a whole psychotic breakdown if you tried hard enough, but decide against it. You’re here to make him feel better. But how? How?  


  
A sliver of silver is what stimulates your sole braincell. The idea that hits you is sheer genius.  


  
”Come on Armin,” You place your hand on his thigh and he jerks back at the feel of it. “—I think you should have some happy gas.” You slide his canister out of place.  


  
”Wh-what? No, I can’t...I can’t do this...” He’s weeping like a little bitch and honestly, if your head rolled off your shoulders right now you’d probably be grateful.  


  
”Come on. Just a puff. You’ll feel better.” You yawn again, feeling your intestines quiver slightly. Fuck sakes, you never had the chance to take a dump this morning and you probably won’t for the rest of the day.  


  
_I’m so sick of these stupid ass Titans. Can’t we just arrest them? This a felony—they’re breaking and entering._  


  
”Are you tryna get him high? _Now_? Are you insane?” Jean shrieks, pointing towards Armin who’s on the verge of hyperventilating.  


  
”Yes and no.” You rub at your throbbing temples.  


  
_Ugh. I’m never drinking again._  


  
Jean is clearly unimpressed but you don’t care because he looks like the slipper your mom beat you with as a child with that long ass head of his. All you’re focused on is finding somewhere to sleep the rest of your hangover off whilst your fellow cadets die in the name of humanity’s freedom.  


  
”There’s so many fucking things wrong with you, it’s like the list of mental illnesses you have is never ending—“ Horse McHorseface complains for the millionth time in your presence and you’ve only been awake for around ten minutes.  


  
You inhale impatiently and feel your migraine worse when some left over coke residue from last night hits your brain. It’s like you have tumour that’s twerking on top of your hippocampus.  


  
_Why this universe? Why me? I could be playing high-school volleyball with a cute midget ginger and his autistic best friend or learning to be a hero in a special hero school with a mangled albino hero that sounds suspiciously like Eren. Why am I stuck in this fictional world when there’s so many others? Why why why?  
_

  
In your hazy, half-assed hangover breakdown, you don’t realise that Jean is shouting abuse at you. That is until he bonks you over the head and tells you that you’re stupid.  


  
”You got any better ideas?” Scowling, you decide to shut him up once and for all. Surprisingly, it works. Yay for you.“—Yeah, that’s what I thought, fuckhead.”  


  
You practically deepthroat Armin with the canister and pat him on the back soothingly, but not too soothingly because he might think that you’re trying to get him pregnant again.  


  
”Deep breath in,” You direct him and he stares with dull, watery eyes. “—Deep breath out.”  


  
You take the nozzle away from him and brush the hair of out of his eyes as gently as you can.  


  
”Feeling better, Armin?”  


  
He sniggers a little. You gave him a fairly good amount so you’re pretty sure that he’ll be in good spirits for at least a few hours.  


  
”See that? Gas always does the tric-“ You prepare to gloat to Jean until it’s time to go or a titan brutally devours both of you. Gesturing towards Armin, you begin your all-important speech.  


  
Then he collapses.  


  
”Great. You killed him.”  


  
Jean rolls his eyes childishly, before sprinting up the air and slicing the nape of an on coming bearded titan.  


  
_Keep rolling, Jean-boy, maybe if you go far enough, you’ll find a brain back there._  


  
You flip him off with one hand whilst using the other to check if Hitler’s sugar baby is alive and kicking. Placing a small finger by Armin nostrils, you feel a shallow huff of air flow against your skin. The last thing you need is for him to have overdosed. Jean would never let you live it down.  


  
_His nose is pretty._  


  
You wonder if it’s because of his aryan European genetics or the work of a talented Shiganshina surgeon who was turned into a lucky titan’s midnight snack.  


  
”He’s breathing, Jeanie. Just knocked out. Get us somewhere safe so I can watch him until he wakes up.”  


  
_My mind is the mind a mastermind..._ You think intelligently.  


  
Jean carries Armin to the infirmary whilst Connie carries you, namely because he claims that Armin is lighter and doesn’t feel like a buffalo sitting on his chest. Regardless, you roll your eyes but go along with it because this is all apart of your master plan.  


  
If you’re on Armin duty, there’s no way in hell you’d have to fight. Perhaps, if you’ve weren’t on the verge of collapsing, you’d be eager to kill a few dickless wonders but you’re certain it would lead to your own untimely death. Suicide isn’t on the agenda today, although if you continue to stay in the same vicinity as Jean for even a millisecond longer, it might be. Yeah. You really need some sleep. And maybe a tall glass of water. And some Xanax.  


  
”Don’t huff any of the gas and keep a close eye on him. I think there’s some spare gear in the back so strap that on when you get the chance. We’re running low on manpower.” Connie dictates and you nod as he and Jean run out the door, pretending like they have even a ounce of clout in their bodies.  


  
”You can count on me!” You smile, giving them a thumbs up and Jean frowns in suspicion. You can’t see his face but you just know him really well. You don’t know whether that pleases or upsets you.  


  
”We’ll be back soon! Don’t forget what I just said!” Connie shouts out before they fly out to save the day like a pair of crime fighting twinks.  


  
Ha, as if you’d ever take instructions from Connie’s compressed ass.  


  
_He’s so fucking short. Sasha should be on sex offender’s register for having a crush on him._  


  
You quickly glance at Armin, who’s steadily knocked out and drooling, and decide to lie down next to him. Finally, you can sleep your headache off without any of this Titan nonsense disturbing you.  



	9. More trost send help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This shit is turning into jean x reader pls send help jejcsjcjej I’m simping over him so hard these days
> 
> HELP ME TELL ME PAIRINGS THAT YOU WANT TO SEE

  
”You idiot bitch, I told you to get your gear on!” Connie screeches, bursting into the armoury with a herd of whiny cadets following closely behind.  


  
Daintily, you stretch your limbs out and wince after hearing a few _cracks_ resonate from your old, crusty joints. At this point, even the black market wouldn’t want them. Arching into a downward dog position, you sourly blame Shadis and his stupid ass training exercises assaulting your organs/joints/bones/merchandise.  


  
Goddamit, Connie is so fucking rude. Come to think of it, so are his loud ass friends. They have some nerve, storming into the room like that—crying and screaming and fearing for their lives as they struggle to conserve the dwindling supply of resources left whilst you’re trying to _sleep_. They have no social awareness at all. Haven’t bothered to lower their voices even after seeing you on the floor in your cute pink nighty. Talk about mannerless.  


  
”Huh? Do you hear me?” Connigular Springular asks, eye twitching in anger like someone has him by the balls. You roll your eyes.  


  
If he wants to talk to you, then he needs to schedule an appointment with your assistant Christa. You’re a busy woman with a busy schedule. Mingling with the commoners—during a battle or not—isn’t something you planned doing today.  


  
”Sadly, yes,” You yawn and twist your neck to the side. It seems like you’ve slept off the hangover, although you’re kind of peckish. “—Now do you have anything edible on you or can I get back to my beauty sleep?”  


  
Through the crowd of terrified faces arises a horse in a harness—the one and only Jean-boy. He comes running forward, mouth twisted in a particular look of horror.  


  
It’s the kind of horror you feel when a small child calls you ugly and you know that they’re not lying because they’re a small child and don’t have it in them to lie. But then your horror increases because they’re a small child and you can’t insult them back or whack them on the head in fear of being prosecuted for child abuse. Not that you know anything about that because you’re hot. Jean _isn’t_ so you imagine he does. It’s kind of sad.  


  
”You idiot bitch! Didn’t we tell you to get your gear on?” He wails, plagiarising Connie’s entire flow, and you look up at the male abominations before you.  


  
They’re irate with gritted teeth as they inch closer and closer towards you. Frowning, you scratch the eye boogies out of corneas. This isn’t what you wanted when you prayed for a gangbang last night.  


  
”Must’ve slipped my mind, Jean-boy.” Peering down at your chipped nail polish, you give him the most petty, half-assed reply possible.  


  
Despite the fact that you’re not looking at him, your spidey-senses tell you that he’s mega fucking fuming and most probably on the verge of committing an honour killing on you. He opens his mouth, presumably to tell you that you’re a slut but pauses when a loud crash sounds from outside of the armoury.  


  
”Where’s Armin?”  


  
You look up, blinking in surprise. Well, that was anti-climatic. Instigating arguments is no fun when the person trying to provoke doesn’t argue back. You find that it’s very telling of Jean’s character—rude and lazy and selfish. After all, how are you supposed to successfully maintain your relationship as mortal enemies if he doesn’t put the effort in anymore?  


  
_It’s that dick of his, isn’t it? It’s made him too confident in himself. He must think he’s above fighting with me now that he’s been in my porkhole...well, not on my watch._  


  
”I don’t know, gigantosaurus rex. Why don’t you tell _me_ since you like to think you know so much?”  


  
Connie throws you the most dirty of dirty looks, the kind of look that a pro-lifer would give to a coat hanger, but it quickly disintegrates into excitement and a smile so wide that even _you_ find it inappropriate.  


  
”Are y’all gonna fight?” He asks, eyes flickering between you and Jean in anticipation.  


  
Connie, in all of his bald midgetry, is one of the worst people you’ve ever met. The fact that he’s willing to watch you two kick off in the middle of a wall breach both impresses and terrifies you. When you look at him, you see a balder, shorter, less intelligent version of yourself—like an abortion coming back from the grave to haunt you.  


  
”I dunno. Are we?” You cock an irritated brow at Jean, not even glancing at bald bilbo.  


  
”Connie, fuck off for a minute.” Jean practically pleads, turning to face him with a desperate expression.  


  
The lack of manners is astounding but hey—not everyone can be as polite and well-bred as you.  


  
Connie blinks, then shrugs and, finally, doesn’t bother to listen because why would anyone take instructions off of Mr Equus?  


  
”Stop trying to exclude me. That’s a subtle form of bullying and I won’t be bullied. If you’re gonna fight I want to see, bro.” Connie reaffirms with tightly crossed arms and a petty pout of the lips.  


  
_Eat his ass up Connie!_ You support his betrayal of Jean wholeheartedly.  


  
Looking around, you watch your fellow cadets scramble for gas and extra harnesses because , surprisingly, leather doesn’t hold up against fifteen metre beasts. Who would’ve thought?  


  
”Scram! Go find Mikasa and the others so we can regroup.”  


  
Connie sighs disappointedly, mumbling something about how Jean’s a freak for trying to get into your guts right now and how he kind of wants to join in and how he would’ve stayed in the nutsack if he knew life would be this _shit_. You only nod sympathetically because boy howdy, isn’t that a mood?  


  
”Look,” Jeanie begins desperately, crouching onto his knees and placing his hands on your shoulders.  


  
You don’t trust the look on his face. It’s extremely...untrustworthy.  


  
”Ew, this is harassment in the workplace!” You grimace disgustedly at his close proximity but he seems unbothered, too caught up in his own mental decline.  


  
”Look,” He continues with a mischievous, slightly unhinged smile in his face. “—If you don’t survive this then you won’t get to see outside of the walls. You won’t get to fuck anyone new. You won’t get to spread your disease to a foreign population and brutally kill them off. The titans are closing in the armoury and it won’t be long until they get in. Before you can even get one hand down those crusty panties of yours, some lucky titan’s gonna kick the door in and make you his toothpick so tell me: where the fuck is _Armin_?” He shakes you lightly and your eyes side from him, up to the ceiling.  


  
Whilst he made several valid points and you completely agree with him, watching Jean-boy get annoyed is the truest form of entertainment so you decide to keep it shut. In this god forsaken age, where technology is limited to wooden strap-ons and cow riding saddles there’s only so much you can do for fun.  


  
Whilst some, like to read and others like to fantasise about climbing over the walls and jumping—you like to irritate those around you to point of brain aneurism. Jean is a wonderfully expressive guy and thanks to his melanin deficiency, he gets red pretty easily. Especially when pissed off. In fact, right now, he’s sporting a nice imperial red shade which, in your experience, means he’s seconds away from stomping you out.  


  
_So red... how does he look like salmonella?_  


  
You snigger at your own internal monologue. Jean doesn’t look as impressed.  


  
”Not answering? Oh okay,” He gets up and brushes his hands off, a bizarre smugness on his stupid face. “—I guess you can stay here and die while the rest of us fight for humanity’s liberation. No skin off of my nose. You’re the only one who won’t get to see the sexy ripped titan that’s helping us outside.”  


  
_Run that shit back one more time._  


  
”Sexy what? You’re lying.” You squint critically and he shrugs nonchalant as ever.  


  
”I’m not. Ask anyone. There was sexy ripped ass Titan outside. It was even killing other titans,” He frowns a little, more to himself than at you. “—And Mikasa _liked_ it!”  


  
This is a low blow, even by Jeanie’s standards. How the fuck could he exploit your nymphomanic tendencies like this? You know that it’s horseshit shat out specially by a horse yet, still, the whore in you questions if there’s a slight chance that he’s telling the truth.  


  
”Forreal?”  


  
”Would I lie to you?” He asks, hands on his hip and brows cocked.  


  
”Uh,” You begin annoyedly. He better not be playing with you. “—Yes?”  


  
“I can respect that. But I’m not lying, I swear, look—Ymir! Ymir ol’ girl come over here for a second!” He waves her over and she visibly gags at having to communicate with a man.  


  
She pulls up with a glock in hand, slinging it over her shoulder and scowling. You hate to admit it but she looks...hot like that. Lezzy.  


  
”What is it?” She rolls her eyes before looking at you and letting out a cackle. “—Are you in your pyjamas?”  


  
”Ymir, wasn’t there a sexy ripped Titan outside?” Jean asks so smugly that you’d think he’s the sexy ripped Titan in question but you've seen him naked and confront that he’s neither sexy or a Titan.  


  
She wrinkles her nose as though you pulled down your shorts and queefed in her face.  


  
”Don’t even bring that mess up—“  


  
” _Ymir_ ”, You cut in, eyes wide and desperate. This shit is gonna turn into a real interrogation if she doesn’t answer quickly. “—Was it sexy?”  


  
”Ew, that thing? Really?” She asks, probably aware that if it hasn’t got genitals then you’re ready to eat it’s ass instead. You nod. “—I mean, sure, by your depressing, disgusting, despicable, deplorable—“  


  
”Can we hurry this up?” Jean asks, upon another loud thud. You assume the titans are directly outside now, breaking through brick and forcing their way in.  


  
”— _nasty ass_ heterosexual standards, sure. Mikasa almost came when she saw it’s abs. Ha.” She snorts and Jean visibly deflates in embarrassment.  


  
_Eleven inches...eleven inches and he got upstaged by cockless titan. I have to laugh. I have to laugh!_

  
You turn to Jean with a fire in your eyes and an ache in your cooch, pleased with Ymir’s confirmation. If she calls a man ugly, then you’re certain that he’s attractive—Titan or not.  


  
“Armin’s mourning Eren in the storage cupboard.” You finally reveal.  


  
Snatching the gun out of Ymir’s hands, you make your way to the back of the armoury to get ready for battle. She shouts some vaguely insulting things towards you but you ignore it. Nothing matters except for your mission.  


  
You will see the sexy Titan’s abs, even if it means dying.  


~

  
Okay, maybe not if it means dying but at least you’re not hanging out in the armoury anymore and actually have your uniform on.  


  
You’re currently fulfilling your moral duty of paying respects to the fallen by moving their bodies out of the way so any scavenging titans eat what’s left of them up. And patting them down. And checking what’s in their pockets. Purely for scientific purposes.  


  
”Broke ass bitches...” You sigh, kicking the corpse in its leg and walking away in disappointment.  


  
Okay, so to someone else—perhaps someone less woke than you—it would like you’re grave-robbing.  


  
“[Y/N], are you fucking grave-robbing?” Christa bellows, running on the rooftop adjacent to you in preparation of slaying some Titan ass.  


  
”Um...no?” You try meekly but it doesn’t work. Nothing gets past Christa. She’s as woke as it gets. Cute little vegan bitch.  


  
”Yes, you are! You’re grave-robbing!” You can see the look of maternal disgust on her face even from the height she’s at. The fact that it’s maternal is kind of awkward because you want bang her but oh well.  


  
” _Grave-robbing_ ,” You begin matter-of-factly, crossing your arms and rolling your eyes. “—Would suggest that they’re in graves. Which they’re not. So I’m not grave-robbing. I’m just preserving their belongings...”  


  
Not that there’s much to preserve anyways. These people were beyond broke, with only a few coins and the last guy...he had a single button in his pocket. And it was split in half. The titans did his ass a favour because you already know he wouldn’t have been able to pay rent on time this month.  


  
_Do broke people taste worse to titans? Like...all bland and financially unstable? Can titans taste the difference between rich and poor people? I don’t know, if I was a titan, I couldn’t be eat anyone cheap. I’d eat aristocrats and monarchs and capitalists—_  


  
” _Preserving their belongings_? Yeah, maybe until the pawn shops reopen! You’re insane, get up here!”  


  
“The bills aren’t gonna pay themselves, Christa!” You shout back, pointing at the Titan creeping up on her.  


  
She shoots up into the air and slices it’s nape with smooth elegance. You feel unbelievably proud at the sight of her but the sentiment doesn’t last for long when she immediately resumes chewing your ass out.  


  
”You don’t have any bills to pay!” She shrieks. “—Get your butt up here now! It’s dangerous to be on the ground!”  


  
You shift your weight from one hip to the other, placing a hand on it like a true baddie b.  


  
”But _Christa_ ,” You whine. “—The sexy Titan hasn’t showed up yet and I left the armoury just so I could see him! It’s not like I have anything else to do and I don’t want to fight the actual titans because what if I die? Then I can’t achieve my dream! Who’s gonna fuck the wall immigrants if I bite the dust now?” You pout but she doesn’t look moved at all.  


  
She points her index finger to the spot next to her, brows furrowing in what you like to call her ‘mom face’. You suspect it’s the result of untreated mental illness but don’t really want it bring it up. Ymir might beat your ass again if you suggest Christa isn’t perfect.  


  
”Ymir and I will fuck them in your honour. Now stop wasting time and come here!”  


  
You sigh and manoeuvre yourself up onto the rooftop. At least some fat rich guy a few streets down died of shock and left his wallet in his pocket. Thank fuck for your posthumous sugar daddy because his coin should cover your nail appointment this Saturday.  


  
The Rolex on his wrist, on the other hand, might just buy you a house in the countryside if this scout shit gets boring.  


  
_Rest in penis, king. You’ll never be forgotten._  


  
”Seriously,” Christa starts again and you resist the urge to groan. It’s bad enough she’s making you do actual work but the fact that she’s lecturing you at the same time? You’d be happy if a titan jumped you right now. “—What are you gonna tell people when the battle is over? What are you gonna tell them you did to contribute?”  


  
”I’ll burst into tears and make them uncomfortable so they stop talking to me.” You smile proudly. Honestly, the size of your brain is just astounding. Armin needs to watch out because he’s not the only strategist around luv.  


  
She looks at you and nods her head in agreement.  


  
”Yeah, I can see you doing that. Fair enough.”  


  
And when the battle is over and done, that’s exactly what you do—after taking credit for slaughtering ten titans at the same time.  



	10. GRADUATION AND A LIL FUNERAL 🥰🥰🥰

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real hood bitch like Erwin making his debut 🥰🥰🥰leave me comments and kudos or else I’ll snitch on you to the feds

  
If you had to describe the entire Trost campaign in a single word, it would have to be _tea_ , purely because of the amount that was spilled—alongside the blood of your comrades, of course.  


  
After Eren being exposed as the sexy ripped Titan (damn, what a turn off), spazzing out and batista bombing Mikasa, Annie having a mental breakdown and claiming she had nothing to do with anyone dying whatsoever, Bert trying to convert several titans to the Christian faith (he claims it worked on two of them. What a beautiful reformation), Marco going in the shredder and you becoming a rich bitch after shaking down almost every corpse you saw—you didn’t think much more could happen.  


  
But in the aftermath of the Trost tragedy, something incredible has happened. You, thanks to Eren’s schizotypal personality disorder and mommy issues, have been given an infinite amount of clout as the _titan guy’s ex_.  


  
”I always knew there was something off about Eren...” You scowl, shaking your head disgustedly as the crowd of nosy rats bombard you with questions.  


  
Some of them are quite seriously injured and should probably be in the infirmary, receiving medical attention. There’s a guy at the back who looks like he’s gonna drop dead from blood loss any moment now but not before he finds out the truth behind Eren’s glow-up and for that reason, you respect him. You hope he can make it all the way through this Q&A before dying and going to hell.  


  
Wall motherfuckers are notoriously nosy. After all, it’s not like you guys anything else going on for yourselves so the occasional affair or celebrity scandal or emergence of a Titan shifter is always a nice to way to liven things up around here. These wall motherfuckers want the inside scoop and as someone who Eren’s been inside many times, you’re clearly the most suited to the job.  


  
”Did you know he was a titan?”  


  
”Is that why you wanted to break up with him?”  


  
”Are you sexually attracted to titans?”  


  
”Has he ever tried to vore you?”  


  
And you’ll be happy to give them the inside story, just as long as you get your clout too. With all of this titan-breaching, nape-cutting, cadet-dying, blood-spilling bullshit that’s been going on, you haven’t been receiving the amount of attention that an attention whore needs to sustain herself. You’re like a plant, only you photosynthesise off of sperm and drama. It’s way cooler than a stupid ass plant could ever be.  


  
”Manipulating the masses in a time of crisis? You could be a politician.” Annie comments in the wry way she does everything.  


  
You try not to groan as she pulls her pants down, spreads her cheeks and _shits_ all over your chances of fame. Right now, you’re in an a excellent position—the ex of teen boy who can miraculously transform into humanity’s biggest threat. The press are going to be itching to get their hands on the juicy details of his life, how he can transform, what he’s like as a person, what he’s like in _bed_!  


  
All in all, you smell a book deal.  


  
_‘The titan’s mistress’...oooh, that has a nice ring to it. My mind is so powerful—I’m gonna have a fucking bestseller!_  


  
That’s if Annie shuts her fat trap and let’s you do your good work.  


  
” _No_ ,” You roll your eyes and cross your arms. The crowd follows your movements eagerly with their own eyes. Blood loss guy can’t stand anymore but no one cares because Eren’s a titan. “—I’m not manipulating anyone. The people want to know what’s going on and I’m all for the people!”  


  
”Sure.” She cocks a fair brow.  


  
You sigh, rubbing your temples and closing your eyes. Annie’s vibes are just tragic. She’s such pessimist, such a ‘glass is half empty’ thinker. She should look once the bright side— _sure_ , the 104th has experienced a great loss and many of the people who she’s grown up with are _dead_ but at least _you’re_ going to be famous! Maybe if she’s lucky, you might give her a shout out in your sexy tell-all book.  


  
”Look, there was always something fishy about Eren. That much is obvious. He’s so pumped up, always ready to bash someone’s head in—I’d say it’s crack but even crack doesn’t make you lose your shit like that. The man’s got red bull running through his veins. Period.” You finish up with a snort and haughty eye roll. Yas. Slay.  


  
From the corner of your eye, you watch the crowd go wild—murmuring and chattering amongst each other. You try to resist the maniacal peak of laughter bubbling in your throat because that was a fucking joke and they _still_ believed it!  


  
”Red bull instead of blood! Write that down!” Someone calls out, followed quickly by the tearing of paper.  


  
Ha. The masses are so easy to manipulate, especially in a time of crisis. They should’ve known better than to come to _you_ for the truth.  


  
”—And while we’re at it, he has head lice too!” You add on with a wide, dimpled smile.  


  
_Ahahahaha...I’m up to no good....foreal._  


  
It’s not that you dislike Eren and want to drag his name through the mud but clout, alongside cocaine, meth, strawberry haribos and vagina, is a drug. You aren’t ashamed to admit that you’re addicted.  


  
”Wow. I can’t believe this. It’s like we don’t even know him anymore.” Says some bitch that didn’t even know him to begin with.  


  
In fact, a majority of the people surrounding you have never so much as looked at Eren before.  


  
”You people are vultures.” Annie sighs, looking as though the entire wall population deserves to be wiped out. Sometimes, you get the feeling that Annie is an alien from a different planet or land, purely because she spends so much of her time looking down upon the human race.  


  
Twisting your head around so speedily, you almost give yourself whiplash. You shoot her a pleading look and she sighs lowly, muttering something about how pathetic you are. Well, she didn’t lie there.  


  
”Is that all?” A himbo asks, pouting sullenly as though you haven’t dedicated twelve minutes of your precious time to answer their questions.  


  
_Is he serious? I could’ve been getting my toes sucked instead of playing twenty questions with him and his stupid cronies._ You huff annoyedly and chalk it up to the fact that he’s a disgusting penis-carrying man.  


  
After all, it’s common knowledge that men have more sperm than brain cells. They can’t help being inferior to women, it’s just the way that they are—written into their genetic coding. They’ve come a long way from slaving in the kitchens and being stay-at-home-dads but you still don’t think they deserve the right to vote. They can’t be trusted with big decisions like that. The economy would be in shambles.  


  
”Uhhhhh,” You fumble, trying to regain the lost momentum from Annie’s stupid commentary. It’s nice that the bitch has stopped playing mute after a whole four years but she’s really picked the worst of times to flap her gums.  


  
The people are getting bored now, discouraged by Annie’s oversized mouth and you’re struggling to regain their interest. Blood loss guy has allowed himself to pass out because he feels like you’ve told him all the good shit. The book deal is crumbling away and you feel your fight or flight activate because _damn it_ , you’re meant for stardom.  


  
_Think, hoe, think!  
_

  
“—And this just in! Yaeger sweats piss!”  


  
”Huh?” An offbeat chorus of voices question, unsure if they heard what they think they just heard.  


  
_Huh?_ You ask yourself. Loool. Even you weren’t expecting that and _you’re_ the one who said it!  


  
A few people give you disbelieving looks and you don’t blame them because it is a little overkill. Red bull blood is one world and pissy sweat is another—they should never collide but in your quest for a best selling book on why Eren is hotter in titan form, you’ve made them meet. It can’t be helped, you suppose.  


  
”Yeah. I dated him, didn’t I? I’ve been closer to him than any of you and let me tell you...his sweat is pure, one hundred percent concentrated urine. It’s like a...birth defect.” You nod as convincingly as you can and the crowd of nosy hoes mumble amongst themselves, deliberating the validity of your statement.  


  
You’ve always thought that Eren looks like he has pee pee sweat but voicing it out aloud hits differently altogether. At some point (you’re not sure when because apparently consistent drug abuse fucks with your memory) but this press conference had began to feel like a therapy session. Only better because you don’t have to pay for it.  


  
Dragging Eren is an undoubtedly fun pass time. You should do it more often.  


  
”He has a birth defect?”  


  
”He’s from Shiganshina, isn’t he? That’s a defect in itself.” You state matter-of-factly and it seems to win the audience over well enough.  


  
_Sheer genius. My synapses are connecting like telecommunications. It’s so congenital of me...systematic._ You think to yourself, amazed at your own intelligence.  


  
”I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as fucked up as you. Like, what caused this—were you abused as a child or something? I don’t understand.” Annie snorts, looking torn between bursting into tears and a dying from a fit of laughter.  


  
”I think it’s genetic.” You shrug before the sight of a ratty tatty scratty red scarf comes into view.  


  
Mikasa, instead of walking around the crowd like a functioning human being, walks through it like a final boss challenging you to a fight.  


  
You suppose that, in essence, is what she’s doing.  


  
”Hey Mika. Armin not with you?” You attempt to be as conversational as possible but you’ve already know she’s caught you red handed.  


  
_Great...I can’t believe I survived all of that titan shit, only to have Jean’s waifu kill me immediately after. Just my fucking luck._  


  
”I hope you’re not defaming Eren after he almost died trying to save your life.”  


  
You look to Annie for safety and support but the treacherous bitch is too busy inspecting her fingernails to care.  


  
A great philosopher once said the words: ‘bitches ain’t shit but hoes and trix. Lick on ‘dese balls and suck da dick’ and you like to live by that. It rings especially true right now because the only bitch that can save you from Mikasa’s wrath is pretending to be blind. Betrayal never comes from your enemies.  


  
_Guns don’t kill people...people kill people..._ You think sadly, shaking your head. That shit is so deep.  


  
“Defaming? Of course not.” You smile as prettily as you can but she doesn’t look all that touched.  


  
Before you get the chance to wonder if your face is defective, she leans in close. She must have a crush on you because she never threatens you from long distance, it’s always close and personal and homoerotic. One of these days, you’re just gonna lean in and give her a smooch since she wants to be such a tease.  


  
Not today, though. She’s scary today.  


  
”I hope so. It would terrible if you mysteriously died and never made it to tomorrow’s graduation ceremony.”  


  
Her face is perfectly still when she says it, which most probably contributes to seventy-five percent of the reason as to why you’re trying not to shit yourself again.  


  
Mikasa is such a massive bitch. There isn’t a day where she doesn’t act as though she’s not menstruating the fuck out of her ovaries and stuffing that dirty scarf up her cooch because you doubt they make tampons thick enough for her fat, steel puthy.  


  
”Yeah. It would but I’m _not_ because there’s no reason for me to die because I haven’t done anything wrong!” You lift a shaky hand up and pinch her cheek for good measure. You don’t know how she does it but she blinks and manages to make it look aggressive.  


  
_Why the fuck does it feel like she’s domming me?_  


  
She stares at you for a long, hard moment—presumably taking in your beauty—before speaking up. The crowd has broken up, most probably in fear of her maiming them. By now, your pants feel suspiciously heavy.  


  
”You’re next up on clean up duty.” Is all she says before walking away to resume her daily routine of weeping over Eren and making Armin feel inferior to her.  


  
You turn to Annie, who looks faintly amused by your red, panicked face.  


  
”I wish the armoured Titan finished them all off. Flop.” You sigh, irritatedly.  


  
She laughs, throwing her hands up in disbelief. You stare at her because you didn’t know she was physically capable of laughing—and you’ve been bunking with her for the last four years.  


  
”You’re telling me?”  


~

“Bitches be wearing the ugliest outfits and say that they did _that_. Well bitch, don’t do it again,” Reiner grimaces at a particularly badly-dressed corpse.  


  
”You’re going in on them, babe.” You chuckle, sweeping some random citizens head into a dustpan and emptying it into a bag that’ll probably be burned once it’s full.  


  
Clean up duty is disgusting. You’ve been dreading doing it, even hiding in closets and pretending to be one of casualties when your name popped up on the schedule for it. The only reason why you came out of closet was for Reiner, who bribed you the promise of a McDonald’s and a kiss.  


  
”It’s easier to insult them when they can’t argue back.”  


  
Walking through the trail of blood and guts, you grimace. Titans are such messy eaters. It’s disgusting. You continue to complain about their lack of table manners to Reiner before a familiar face stops you in your tracks.  


  
”Is that Marco?”  


  
”Nope.” Reiner coughs out immediately, face paling and eyes bulging out. “—We should clock out, our shift is over.”  


  
Aw, poor baby. He’s never handled gore all that well.  


  
”Yeah it is. That’s—“ You step closer, crouch down and pausing to squint at the mangled torso. “—If it isn’t the freckled whelp himself! Who would’ve thought?” You point at him, a disbelieving smile on your face.  


  
”I don’t think so.”  


  
“ _Look_!” You point at the corpse. “-It’s blatantly Marco, he’s got that same constipated look.”  


  
Reiner ‘ahahahahaha’s’ nervously and turns to the side, presumably to have a dissociative meltdown. You hype him up, telling him that he’s a solider, warrior and bad bitch. Three in one, just like the nasty ass body wash-shampoo-conditioner thing he uses.  


  
“Damn, that’s tough. Rest in pieces, Markie.” You snort. Ha. It’s funny because he’s literally split. Into two pieces. Lmao.  


  
Connie and Sasha pass you on the streets, with Sasha sweeping and Connie bagging. There’s a third guy who’s identifying bodies with them per the official procedure. Each group on clean up duty is supposed to have someone who can check the names of the deceased off of the list but you and Reiner ran away from yours. He was cramping your style with his mask. That shit was _so_ last season.  


  
“Connie, Sasha! Did you guys know that Marco’s dead?” You call out to them.  


  
”What?” Sasha gawps, a whole chicken leg in one hand and meat in her mouth. Ew, gross. How is she eating now of all times?  


  
_The way this bitch constantly eats but never gains a pound...pain. All I know is pain._  


  
”Forreal?” Connie comes running over. Oh right. You forgot that him and dotty were close.  


  
You can’t even begin to imagine how sad Jean is gonna be when he finds out. The only person who ever liked him is dead and now he’s back to being a friendless little twerp. Isn’t that just sad? You might play him a piece on the wall’s smallest violin when you get the chance.  


  
You make some vague connection in your mind in which if you lost Reiner, you’d be destroyed. You quickly push those thoughts away. Who are you kidding? Reiner’s too sexy to die.  


  
”Well, we’re not sure—” The ass master, himself, begins forehead beginning to sweat but you don’t realise in your shock.  


  
” _Yeah_ , man!” You cut Reiner off, excited for a good midday gossip. “—His ass is _gone_. If you walk a little further up, you’ll see him. Well, what’s left of him. He’s the one torn in half.” You explain, watching Connie’s face literally turn green in horror.  


  
”No.” He shakes his head, mouth creasing distraughtly.  


  
”... _Yes_.” You give him a weird look. Is he saying your source (aka your fucking eyeballs) are incorrect?  


  
”Sasha,” He turns around to find her suckling on the chicken bone. What the fuck is she trying to eat now? It’s bone marrow? “—Sasha, come quick!”  


  
”She wasn’t lying?” Sasha asks, face paling considerably. What the hell do these guys think you are? You’re not the con-woman they make you out to be. So what if you’ve gone to prison for fraud a few times? Everyone has!  


  
“Yikes, babe.” Reiner looks down with a judgmental pout. “—You could be a bit more sensitive about it.”  


  
”Why are you running? It’s not like he’s going anywhere.” You let out a incredulous snort. Reiner splutters in shock although you’re unsure who it’s directed at.  


  
Connie literally breaks down into tears as he hightails it down the street, Sasha chasing after him but failing because she’s so focused on swallowing what ever the hell is in her mouth.  


  
Reiner’s quiet next to you as you watch the dynamic duo make their sprint. You turn to face him and note the frown curving his lips. Also one of his contacts have slipped out of place, making him somewhat cock-eyed just like on the camping trip. He needs to get himself a better pair.  


  
”What’s wrong, Rein?”  


  
He scratches his head nervously.  


  
”Isn’t it sad, babe? Marco was a good guy. He deserved to live.”  


  
Bless him, Reiner’s always been a sensitive little soul. You wrap your arms around him and nestle into his chest.  


  
”Yeah I guess,” You begin, feeling him place his chin on your head. It’s a real pointy chin. Kind of hurts against your scalp. If you had nits they’d be begging for mercy, right now. “—He deserved better. It’s awful what happened to him but at least he doesn’t have to live in fear anymore. He’s luckier than us in that sense. He can just rest. Be at peace. Decompose...”  


  
”Yeah, you’re right...” He gives you one last squeeze before letting go of you. “—Wanna make out? I need some sad smoochies before we have to go to the...y’know.”  


  
You wrinkle your nose affectionately, wishing the world was filled with Reiner clones. Maybe then you’d get along with everyone.  


  
”Some sad smoochies coming right up.”  


~

  
Who other than the legend, the icon, the extremist, himself, Bertolt Hoover could lead the funeral service?  


  
“—Many of our comrades are burning in hell, just as their flesh is burning now. In James four-eight, the Bible states: _Come near to God and he will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts_. Unfortunately, a good majority of the deceased couldn’t afford a bar of soap therefore they died as dirty pigs who rejected God’s message and partook in homosexuality. They will suffer more in the afterlife than they ever did in death. Another win for the Christian community. Good riddance.” He spits into the fire, Bible in hand and cross glinting around his neck.  


  
”Thank you for the kind words.” Jean whispers, throat hoarse and face horse too.  


  
Bert pats him on the back and consolingly and nods. Everyone else stares at them in silence, with even the crickets being rendered speechless. Reiner looks faintly embarrassed despite having snorted three emotional support lines before making it to the service.  


  
“Why was that convincing? I think I’m a homophobe now.” You hear Ymir whisper to a currently horrified Christa, with way too much laughter in voice for someone who’s attending a funeral.  


  
”He is extremely talented at spreading hate speech...” God but in a cute blonde wig pouts once thought, as though she’s seriously considering renouncing homosexuality.  


  
You stare longingly at the fire, having been banned from going near it by Christa after she caught you and Sasha roasting marshmallows over it. Weirdly enough, she allowed Sasha to continue on and claimed that it was coping mechanism. Well, if that’s the case then why aren’t you allowed to pull out your flask and chug down some Smirnoff?  


  
You stare and stare and stare, no matter how badly it strains your eyes—no matter how brightly it burns. The fire encapsulates you wholly.  


  
”Are you crying?” Christa asks, upon realising your silence.  


  
You don’t realise it until she touches your warm, wet cheeks—cupping your face sweetly. Sadly, it isn’t the warm, wet pair of cheeks you have in mind for her but you take it regardless. Simps can’t be choosers.  


  
”Yeah, I guess I am,” You sniffle weakly, stifling the hiccup building in your throat. “—I cant help it. I...just feel so..”  


  
“Just so what honey? It’s okay you can let it out...” Christa presses on. Ymir doesn’t even object to her captive touching you, presumably too shocked that you’re showing any sort of emotion that isn’t horniness or anger.  


  
”So...” You trail off in thought, gritting your teeth painfully hard. Christa clutched your face harder. Your heart skips a beat.  


  
”Just so?” Limpid blue eyes widen at you hopefully. Ymir watches you carefully, mouth parted and sucking in a deep, anxious breath.  


  
”— _Happy_!”  


  
If this were a movie (you’re not completely sure of what those are), then this would be the point where the record scratches and an awkward silence follows (what the fuck is a record?).  


  
Ymir slaps Christa’s wrist downwards so her fingertips are removed from your cheek, rolling her eyes in disappointment.  


  
”Just when I thought all that therapy was about to pay off.” She grumbles, wrapping an arm around her pillow princess’ shoulder.  


  
You snort, rolling your perfect, amazing, twenty-twenty vision having ass eyes. Did they seriously think you’d overcome all seventeen of your personality disorders? They should know you better than that by now!  


  
”What did you _think_ I was gonna say? Thomas and Mina died, remember? The happy couple! Ha, more the like _dead_ couple. They thought they were too good for my cooch and now they’re going to hell. It’s just my impact...” You sighs dreamily.  


  
Your only regret is that you weren’t there to crack some salt and pepper on them before they went down. They must’ve tasted awfully bland.  


  
Unfortunately, your lack of respect for the dead catches some attention—with Connie and Sasha looking completely terrified of you. Bert gives you a thumbs up. Jean’s too busy fondling some random ass bone that flew into his hand.  


  
”You’re so fucked up.” Connie pauses his venture into the five stages of grief (you suspect he’s on the third) to cuss you out. You briefly consider pushing him in the fire since you’re already at a funeral. One more death couldn’t hurt right?  


  
Unfortunately Sasha would never forgive you and that little hick, as much as it pains you to admit, is special to you.  


  
”That’s the second time I’ve heard that today.” You furrow your brows annoyedly.  


  
Thankfully, the boring ass funeral wraps up quickly enough. You hop into bed, stomach churning in excitement but also anticipation. Tomorrow, you’re joining the scouts and who knows, maybe the day after that—you’ll be knee deep in foreign cooch.  


~

  
The first thing you think upon seeing Commander Erwin Smith are the words _DILF ALERT_. Luckily for him, you’re the most experienced dilf hunter around with ninety-five point five percent success rate.  


  
He’s lean and tall, his arms are so muscular that it looks like the fibres of his jacket are having panic attack trying to contain them. It would be shame if anything happened to them—such as a violent amputation mid battle.  


  
You swear that when you join the scouts, you’ll protect them with your life.  


  
“Yes, I do the cooking...” You sing under your breath. Sasha gives you an annoyed look, elbowing you in the gut lightly.  


  
”...Yes, I do the cleaning...” She finishes off, a light blush on her cheeks. Even with her questionable taste in men (although you’re sure Connie constitutes more as a balding chihuahua), she can admit that Erwin Smith is one fine hunk of middle aged ass.  


  
_Wow. It’s so perky. So round. So muscular! How the hell does he shit with that thing?_  


  
He’s undoubtedly one of the finest specimens you’ve encountered but _man_ is he killing the mood.  


  
”Your survival rate is extremely low, less than four percent of you will make it _blah blah blah blah—_ “  


  
You don’t give a rat’s ass. All you want to know is if he’s married and if he’s looking for someone to cheat on his wife with.  


  
”—You will probably die without a funeral or proper burial, feeling incredibly unloved and in a state of terror so primal that you will have defecated upon yourself.” His eyebrows, which are the only things in existence that are thicker than his shitter, furrow seriously.  


  
Wow. He must be fun at parties.  


  
”Seriously,” He presses on. “—You will be terrified. I’ve seen grown men cry for their mother’s while getting chewed on like a strawberry pop tart. If you’re lucky, you’ll die from shock. But the Scout’s doesn’t have the luckiest of history so don’t count on that—”  


  
Most people, at this point, have either zoned out or are looking at him like he needs to be institutionalised and given a nice, lengthy round of electro shock.  


  
Someone from the side of the stage runs into view and taps the Commander on the shoulder, whispers in his ear. Her little head shakes, mouth downturned in a ‘what the fuck is he doing’ sort of panic.  


  
”Um, Commander,” the petite strawberry blonde murmurs. She’s so cute. You kind of want to carry her babies. “—You’re supposed to convince them to _join_. Not scare them away to MP.”  


  
_Someone get her in booth now...barz._  


  
Her voice is hushed and secretive but the Commander replies with a tone so fucking loud that the entire 104th, alongside the titans outside of the walls and whatever freaky aliens are probably surveilling the planet hear too.  


  
”But I thought honesty was the best policy!” He frowns, utterly confused and voice echoing. You swoon. Mentally ill men have the best dick and that’s a _fact_!

  
Commander Eggbert and the mother of your unborn lesbian test tube children fall into a argument, with her whispering and him barking in response. His throat must hate him.  


  
”Sasha, you still thinking of joining?” You look at her from the corner of your eye and resist the urge to double over in hyterics when she winces.  


  
”Fuck of y’all I’m going back home,” She throws up a peace sign and pouts. “—Sweet home Alabama, _babey_.”  


  
Your laughing fit is cut short when the commander nods at the cutie on stage and dismisses her, clearing his throat and staring again.  


  
”—If you could forget everything I’ve said in the last ten minutes, it would be greatly appreciated,” He grunts. “—The Scout Regiment has an excellent dental care plan for it’s employees, as well as a wonderful Christmas office party. If you love a good secret Santa then you’ll love the Scouts!” He nods firmly, although he looks like the pressure of his asscheeks being so firmly clenched together is gonna make head explode any minute now.  


  
”Boo! Get him off the stage!” Someone that sounds suspiciously like Connie shouts from the back of the crowd and you kind of agree.  


  
_Oh, to have a tomato I could pelt at him. He was so sexy and then...BOOM...he opened his fucking mouth._  


  
”—Anyways,” He coughs, finally showing mercy upon you all and wrapping his travesty of a speech up. “—I hope to see many of you in later expeditions. The Scout Regiment and me, as it’s commander, always like to see fresh faces. We would love to hear your insight and have you be apart of our team. If you don’t join, then I hope you rot in hell.”  


  
He salutes and makes his way off the stage. You let out the breath you were holding. Fina-fucking-lly! You’ve never been so attracted to a person, yet hated them so much before in your life (Jean doesn’t count because he’s clapped, teehee). You suppose this is a new chapter in your life and there’ll be plenty of new firsts to come with it.  


  
”Also,” His big blond head pops back into view and a few collective groans sound. “—Due to the reports of rampant substance abuse going on in the 104th, we’ll be holding drug tests. We don’t want crackheads.”  


  
You literally scream.  



	11. Awooga

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello simps I wrote this around a day or two after I posted the last chapter and then I got really sick and wasn’t able to write for a long time so I apologise for the long wait👩❤️💋👩Pray for your girl even though she’s a god rejecting atheist bc I still feel like shit

  
”Sasha, I’ll give you my dinner for the next two days if you donate me some your piss.”  


  
”Only if drinks are included.”  


  
”Drinks too?” You shoot her a horrified look. Is this bitch trying to assassinate you? You’re too pretty to be assassinated! That’s only for ugly US presidents and stinky capitalists.  


  
”Dehydration kills, sweetie and I don’t wanna die. You should be grateful that I’m willing to lose extra fluid for you,” She narrows her eyes slyly. “—Unless you don’t mind using your _own_ piss.”  


  
You grumble annoyedly. Oh well, you can always take Armin’s lunch off of him. He’s way too much of a pussy to fight back and Mikasa, as a proud Eren-sexual (she claims it’s a valid sexuality with a flag and all) doesn’t care about him enough to fend you off.  


  
Then there’s Christa, who’s literally Jesus in a blonde lace front. She’s the most benevolent, charitable, generous queenie ever and you know that she wouldn’t have any problems with giving you a bread slice or two.  


  
All in all, it’s not too bad of a price but that won’t stop you from being petty about it.  


  
“Fine.” You plop the nozzle of the water canteen in her mouth, earning a few splutters from her. “—Now get drinking, Cletus.”  


  
It was either this or seduce the piss tester which, normally, you’d have no problem doing. After all, your ass is the _people’s_ ass and it’s only morally right that you share it with them. However, there are two main reasons as to why you’re currently being a cheek hoarder:  


  
A) being that you’re currently in a state of abstinence. Bertie was proud of your ‘beautiful reformation’ when you announced that you’d be letting your cooch breathe but you were quick to destroy his hopes and dreams. Ha, as if you’d give up your reservation in Hell.  


  
By refuelling and resting your glorious puthy now, it’ll be especially energised tomorrow and that’s when the _real_ fun starts. The Scouts is never gonna be the same once you clock in for your shift. Shit, if you don’t have at least four middle aged sugar daddies by the end of the week, you’ll renounce your title as the walls’ most prestigious hoebag.  


  
And B) being that he’s really old and crusty. You could die happily knowing that you’ve never fucked a senior citizen named Bill who’s currently suffering from around four forms of dementia.  


  
“They don’t say my piss isn’t golden for nothing!” She points at the bright yellow tube in her hand with a shit-eating grin on her face. You yelp and jerk away.  


  
Why are all of your friends so disgusting (with exception of Christa, you’re pretty sure she created and patented soap)? Sasha, as all diseased Southerners do, takes frequent mud-baths, Reiner is a walking lynx Africa bottle and Ymir is a just a grimy bitch in general. Perhaps your therapist is right. It’s time to re-evaluate your life choices.  


  
”I think it’s a reference to your raging UTI.” You cringe and she sighs contently, smushing her ass into the toilet seat some more.  


  
Sasha is such an obnoxiously loud pisser, it makes you want to grab her by the head with one hand and flush her down the toilet with the other. With the way her pork chops are flapping about it sounds like there's a fucking pressure cooker going off.  


__

  
_Spent four hundred gold coins on lip fillers but won’t see a gynaecologist...you worried about the wrong lips bih._  


__

  
”Don’t diss the piss— _ooh_!” She cuts herself off, wiggling to the side a little in shock. A few coins fall out of her pocket. You do the right thing and pick them up before slipping them into your own pocket.  


__

  
”—It’s starting to burn a bit.” She answers your questioning look, giggling sheepishly at how her cooch be itchin’ and burnin’ and burnin’ and itchin’ like she’s fucking lovelypeaches on the track.  


__

  
The fact that Sasha’s pussy is in a greater state of disrepair than your own is both entertaining and insulting. After all, you’re a veteran hoe and she’s the same person who once thought she’d die if she touched her clit. How she’s outdone you, you’ll never know. You surmise that it must be the result of some Texan juju.  


__

  
“This is why Connie doesn’t love you.” You look down upon her as usual, partially because it makes you happy and partially because it seems like the moral thing to do.  


  
_Playing on her insecurities...how very cash money of me..._  


  
Of course, the CEO of Alabama pops a blood vessel at the mention of her unrequited lover. She rolls her eyes like she’s demonically possessed, only there isn’t a demon in this spiritual plane that would want to touch her.  


  
Perhaps that was a bit of a low blow but you reason that it can’t be much lower down than _Connie’s_ midget ass.  


  
”Shut up! Connie does love me. He just needs time to see that I’m his one true love.” She huffs and crosses her arms as you hightail it against the door of the stall.  


__

  
” _One true love_? Have you seen his little ass? I’ll tell you what you are, Sasha: _his legal guardian_ ,” You cackle meanly and she frowns.  


  
_I’m so funny. Who’s doing it out here like me?_  


  
Sasha, unfortunately seems to disagree. Maybe it’s due to cultural differences, with her being an inbred southerner and all. Even though she keeps on denying it, you know the truth—she can’t help that her dad is her uncle. Poor thing. There isn’t a day where you don’t weep over her genetic code.  


  
_Their family reunions must be wild. Imagine going to your cousin’s for some peach cobbler and instead you get a pornhub special. Ewwww gross._  


  
”Like I said. He needs time.” She repeats annoyedly, after chugging down the rest of the water canteen.  


  
You burst into laughter. Every time you think you’re done bullying her, she throws her hands out like a starving, Victorian-era orphan and says ‘pwease sir, can I ‘ave sum more’. You’ve never seen someone so intent on setting themselves up. God Bless Sasha for her thoughtlessness and bad word choices.  


  
Naturally, as all bad bitches and terrible human beings do: you take advantage of the situation.  


  
”Damn right he needs time,” You fling your arms up as though snitching on her to God for being a kiddie fiddler. “—Time to reach the legal age of consent, luv. If you go out with him, you’re gonna get _arrested_. Be glad he’s ghosting you.”  


  
Even though her dating Connie would be terribly amusing (lmao it’s like if Santa dated one of his elves), it would result in you losing a third side hoe and you don’t think you can handle that sort of loss—which is why you’re so determined to make sure it never happens and Sasha remains lonely and single for the rest of her days. Until you’re in the mood for a booty call, of course.  


  
Sure, you might be an ‘ _toxic friend_ ‘ but a little radiation never killed anyone, right? In actuality, you’re proud that she’s interested in someone that isn’t related to her. Talk about independence!  


  
”Ha ha. We get it, he’s short and I’m tall,” She snarls at you and for a moment, it genuinely scares you. Maybe she wasn’t lying when she said she was raised by wolves for the first five years of her life. “—Get _out_. You’re ruining the quality of my piss.”  


  
You peep into the test tube in her hand and realise she’s right. Her piss looks kind of depressed now. Deciding that you’ve almost bullied Sasha a sufficient amount, you give her a final cheeky grin.  


  
”Can I have a kiss before I go?” You try your luck, puckering your lips and leaning in. Surprisingly, she leans in too.  


  
“Yeah but only if you like water sports.” She puckers her lips and brings them close to your own, whilst raising the test tube up so it hovers next to your face.  


  
_Damn, okay R Kelly._  


  
You slam the door cubicle door on your way out so hard that it breaks.  


__

~

__

  
Your bags are already packed, having been waiting to get out of this bitch since the day you entered it. The 104th is like jail, only in jail you’re free to have sex in the showers and, well, you actually _chose_ to join it.  


  
Ymir, Christa, Sasha and Mikasa haven’t so, unfortunately, you’re forced to wait for them.  


  
”Off to the MP, Annie?” You ask her lazily, painting your nails a sharp shade of red. Your hands tend to look like chicken feet without nail polish and something tells you that special little quirk won’t help you seduce the entire fucking regiment tomorrow.  


  
Annie gives you an incredulous look, peering up from her duffel bag in an attempt to make you feel intellectually inferior to her. Ha, as if you didn’t already know.  


  
”After the speech that schizophrenic commander gave? _Yes_.”  


  
You dont blame her, to be fair. As sexy as Eggie Smith is, he really needs to get his noggin checked out. Deep in your pee-pee flaps, something tells you that underneath all of that junk in his trunk lies _years_ worth of childhood trauma and your pee-pee flaps never make inaccurate predictions! Weirdly enough, it only makes him more sexy.  


  
_My only flaw is liking men._  


  
She carries on filling her bag up with secret documents and plans to destroy Eldia (whatever the fuck that is) and you both fall into relative silence. The only sound is you blowing on your nails and humming the Wii sports tune. Man, you love the Wii sports tune.  


  
_Dum dum dum dum dum dum dum dum da dum... DUM DUM DUM dum dum dum Dummm Dummm—_  


  
”Why have you never hit on me?” John Cena with boobs speaks up and you almost spit your tongue out in shock.  


  
That wasn’t very hetero of her.  


  
With the possibility of Annie being a wlw associate, you gain the sudden urge to ask her if she’ll let you smooch her. You know...as a goodbye. However, it dawns upon you that it may be construed as sexual harassment so you decide to shut your hoe ass up before you’re asked to represent yourself in court.  


  
”I didn’t think you were interested? Also you’re really fucking scary?” You cock a confused although sexy brow. Why _haven’t_ you hit on her before?  


  
Granted, she could snap you in half like a twig but that would only make hooking up with her more fun. You’re so stupid! You’re so foolish! How could you have been your own worst enemy? You’ve bunked with her four years and instead of using it as an opportunity to bump uglies, you reported her to Shadis for snoring too loud and petitioned to kick her out of the corps.  


  
_The fact that she signed it though..._  


  
”Oh.” She blinks at you simply and looks back down at your bag. There’s a light blush on her cheeks—a sign of gayism—and you won’t let it fade so easily. By hook or by crook, you will understand why she just asked you that weird ass question!  


  
”I didn’t think you swung that way, Annie.”  


  
”I don’t!” She answers you way too quickly to _not_ be a closet creeper. Hm. This all getting very sus, very fast. Not fast enough though.  


  
_I don’t know how I’m telling the time because clocks haven’t been invented yet but I need to catch a wagon in five minutes. If she could get over her internalised homophobia by then it’d be great._  


  
”—I’m not...I’m not, uh, like that.” She grunts and the more you look at her, the redder she gets. It’s what she deserves for having such pretty, pale, non-crusty skin.  


  
You’re sunburned as fuck thanks to Reiner drinking your sunscreen. You told him not to snort those extra lines and he didn’t listen and now _you’re_ the one who has to suffer for it with your crispy ass nose! It looks like you have a strip of bacon dangling in between your eyes. You can only thank God for making the rest of you so hot.  


  
_He had some nerve overdosing before he could buy me a new bottle..._  


  
”Like that?” You repeat, watching her closely. You don’t know why, though. You’re not really getting much out of this conversation other than the fact that her skin is better than yours right now. It’s somewhat triggering.  


  
”Like a... _lesbian_ , or whatever.”  


  
She spits the word out like she’s got mouth full of battery acid and, honestly, you kind of agree. Living with Ymir for four years is more than enough time to turn someone homophobic.  


  
Okay, so she’s definitely a lesbian.  


  
“Sure,” You smile, brightly. She rolls her eyes at it but says nothing.“—If you say so.”  


  
Her slender eyebrows wrinkle together in thought, presumably wondering how to murder you within the next five minutes and make it look like an accident.  


  
“What do you mean ‘if I say so’? I am saying so! I like men. And muscles. And facial hair. And...cock and ball torture...” She lists, looking absolutely nauseated. Lol. What a fucking mood.  


  
You really weren’t expecting her impromptu coming out but you’ll gladly welcome it. It’s always nice to meet new clitoris enthusiasts. Also, the chances of her pity fucking you have increased significantly because you’re a scout now and you’re probably gonna die in like a week and she’s a fucking _lesbian_.  


  
”Cock and ball torture?” You gawp dramatically, wondering where the hell your Oscar is. “—Well, you’ve got me sold. You _must_ like men! S-word for assuming.” You shake your head and she flattens her non-existent lips in annoyance, looking like she regrets initiating this conversation.  


  
Now that you think about it, most people tend to give you this look. What a funny little coincidence.  


  
”It’s fine,” She doesn’t realise you’re being sarcastic, most probably because she doesn’t think you have the brain capacity to be able to do it—which too be fair, you don’t. You’re just incredibly mean spirited.  


  
~~Fanny~~ Annie watches you sling your own bag over your shoulder, getting ready to hightail it to the wagon. “—Do you think you could write to me if I give you my new address? I’ll write back, obviously.”  


  
Woah luv...that caught you off guard. Annie is full of cute little surprises today. Youthinks she’ll pop out with a wedding ring next. It has to be a real diamond, of course, in the likely event that you’ll accidentally cheat on her (you have a condition) and get divorced. Then you can pawn it off and become a millionaire socialite before selling starting a makeup brand and selling overpriced lip kits for a living.  


  
But aside from your disgustingly capitalist fantasies, you realise that Annie genuinely wants to keep into contact with you. Well, ain’t that some shit? First of all, it’s bold of her to assume that you can write at all but you’d be happy to give it a shot if it results in getting your cheeks eaten.  


  
Second of all, you’re going to be late to wagon so if she’s going to propose then she better hurry up. You have scouts to bang and titans to kill.  


  
“Sure, I love me some charity work.” You snort. Annie the lezzy aka Annie the hetty wants _you_ in her mailbox..what a turn of events. This is one for the history books.  


  
She gives you a blank, unimpressed stare.  


  
”Or not? Here, lemme just—yeah. Thanks.” She hands you the slip of paper with her address, cutting you off.  


  
You slip it into your bra and she wrinkles her nose in disgust. You ignore her judgement. As if her titties don’t sweat buckets! The last time you trained with her, you’d thought she was lactating with the amount of sweat her knockers produced.  


  
_Silly me. She can’t lactate if she’s an LGBT._  


  
Something tells you that you’re running out of time now but it feels improper to leave so quickly. After all, Annie bunked with you when no one else would—claiming that you’d die a horrible death soon so it would make no difference. Aw, those were simpler times.  


  
”Can I get a hug?” You try, lifting your arms up and attempting to loop them around her neck.  


  
Or maybe not.  


  
”Touch me and I’ll break your arms.” She deadpans. If Reiner’s booty cheeks were granted a human form, you’re certain they’d be Annie. Hard, covered in blond hair and absolutely fucking terrifying.  


  
You decide that it’s best that you avoid touching her and make your way to the wagon. You reckon your handjob game won’t be as great as usually is if you don’t have a _hand_ to begin with.  


~

  
”[Y/N], calm down! It’s going to be alright. It’s going to be alright!” Christa pats you on the back. Tears collect in your eyes and as the wagon stumbles over a pothole, you hiccup.  


  
”I feel fucking sick...I can’t breathe...” You croak, clutching your head in your hands.  


  
Ymir rolls her eyes, head banging against the wagon with every rock it rolls over. How that bitch isn’t concussed is beyond you. You suspect it has something to do with the enormous size of her head.  


  
”Fifty-one is divisible by seventeen.”  


  
“Stop saying _that_!” You shriek, lurching forward to knock her in her stupid freckled face. Christa grabs you by the shoulders to hold you back and Ymir cackles even louder.  


  
How she can even bring up numbers during such a momentous occasion, you will never understand. Mathematics is the work of the male devil and for that, you’ll never forgive them. To do addition, is to sell your soul to be devil. Only satanists, men and straight people do maths. Disgusting.  


  
_These numbers...they just don’t sit right with me at all. It must be because I’m a woman...and a woman of God, at that!_  


  
Mid mental collapse, you realise that Mikasa’s sitting opposite you and staring interestedly at your trembling, voluptuous waist. You had forgotten that she’s Eren personal toe sucker and she’d be bound to follow him for the rest of her toe sucking days.  


  
Sadly, she’s not looking at you with the sort of interest you’d like. With popcorn in her hand and a grin on her face, she stares you down—watching the last braincell you have nosedive out of your vagina. What a bitch. She’s almost on Ymir’s level but as far as bitches go, Ymir is the OG.  


  
_I hope that clit-collecting neanderthal gets vored by the first Titan she sees! I hope it schlurps her down like spaghetti and she makes a really wet sound—_  


  
”What? It’s the truth.” The clit-collecting neanderthal in question puts her palms up innocently and you snap your jaws at her like a rabid raccoon.  


  
”It’s _wrong_! It’s an abomination,” You shrill, producing a beautiful whistle note. Wow, with your talent you’d be the biggest super star the wall’s have ever known.  


  
You make a mental note to get in the studio after your breakdown.  


  
”—It should have never existed!” You wail, pounding a fist against the floor of the wagon. Ouch. That shit hurted.  


  
”My dad when I was born...” Christa murmurs, snorting to herself quietly behind her palm. Everyone stops and gives her a look. Even you pause your meltdown, opening your eyes and shaking your head.  


  
Christa is undoubtedly the peak of human evolution so you’ll never understand why her dad was so determined to reject her. You’re almost certain that his balls are golden for shooting out a load as precious as Christa but if you ever run into him, you won’t hesitate to chop them off and sell them on the black market for giving your Queenie such a fatass inferiority complex.  


  
”Don’t put yourself down like that, Christa.” You whisper hoarsely and Ymir nods so fiercely, that her big head bangs against the wagon again.  


  
The wagon comes to a slow stop. Bertie blinks and sticks his head out. You kind of hope that he falls out. You need a good laugh.  


  
”And by the Good Lord’s will, we’ve made it to our destination! Give thanks—“ He begins, only to be interrupted by the gross middle aged driver who goes by the name of no neck Ed.  


  
You’re pretty sure that he, much like a majority of people in wagon, has been institutionalised at least once.  


  
”Shut the fuck _up_ and get the fuck _out_! If I have hear one more syllable from you bastards, I’ll crash this thing myself!” He bangs on the side of the wagon and you all wince.  


  
Ugh. You’ve always known public transport was below you with it’s unsavoury characters and expensive ass ticket fees. Thank dick for Ymir’s massive cranial capacity. You left your wallet tucked in your suitcase, hid behind her obese head and no one saw or suspected a thing! You snuck on as smooth as baby’s butt! Or not, you’re not sure about how that saying goes.  


  
Sure, Jean was about to snitch but all you had to do was mention Marco (the ultimate uno reverse card) and there he went—far far away into a depressive downward spiral! He hasn’t looked up for the last twenty minutes and you’re not completely sure of whether he’s breathing or not. Regardless, the moral of the story is that you hate wagon services and you’d smoke dick before you paid four gold coins for a one way trip.  


  
“Such profanity,” Bert begins disappointedly, beginning one of his ted talks on why Jesus is the only man he’ll ever love . “— Are you not aware of the Lord’s policy on swear words? Esphisians 4:29 states ‘ _Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths_ —“  


  
The wagon picks up again as the no neck Ed lets out a particularly suicidal screech.  


  
”That’s _it_! I’m done! Jesus take the wheel!” The wagon driver starts up and everyone begins shrieking in fear. Except Mikasa. And Christa. Those bitches have been ready to die for years.  


  
”I’m gonna die now? I haven’t even had brunch yet!”  


  
”Is he tryna pop off? Bert, I think you should teach him a lesson since he wants to pop off.”  


  
”Are we going to see Marco?”  


  
”Wait! Don’t crash it yet I haven’t got my seatbelt on!”  


  
”Christa, I’ll protect you baby!”  


  
”Get your hands off of my fucking girlfriend, you stupid bitch!”  


  
”Fuck you, she’s my girlfriend now!”  


  
”It’s okay guys there’s plenty of me to go around!”  


  
”No no...let the men handle this. Say that again. Say that again and see what happens, [Y/N].”  


  
“Don’t fight! _Thou shalt love thy neighbor_ —“  


  
”Shut your ass up, Bert! This is your fucking fault! I bet Jesus hates you!”  


  
”...Take that back, you unnatural lesbian bitch.”  


  
Everyone descends into chaos as the falls down a conveniently placed hill that isn’t there at all for comedic reasons. You’re slammed to the ground and someone, way too fucking heavy for you liking, falls on top of your chin.  


  
”My face! My beautiful face!” You scream as you realise it’s Jean’s asscheeks.  


  
You can’t believe when they conduct your autopsy, your cause of death is gonna listed a ‘toxic inhalation’ and it _won’t_ be because of some premium gas you stole from under Shadis’ oversized nose. Who would’ve thought, in the end, Jean’s ass fumes would be the thing to make you kick the bucket? It’s a modern day tragedy.  


  
_Sometimes the biggest enemy...be your own lungs._ You groan internally, suddenly realising they’d probably be worthless on the black market with the way you smoke.  


  
”What? What about your stupid face?” He screams, irritatedly. Even as you’re on your deathbed, you’re still able to find a way to piss him off. Your talent is truly unparalleled. “—You sat on top of mine!”  


  
Oh balls, you were hoping he’d keep quiet about that. Now you’re going to die with the shame of everyone knowing you were desperate enough to let Jean smash.  


  
” _You let Jean smash_?” Everyone in the wagon exclaims as they thrash about. With exception of Connie. Ha, his miniature ass is probably dead already.  


  
Unfortunately, before you get the chance to clear your name and make up some lie about how he’s disassociating again for the fourth time this trip, Mikasa picks herself up and stops the wagon—saving all of your lives. Oh great, as if this what you needed.  


  
Now you’re gonna have to _live_ with the shame of everyone knowing you were desperate enough to let Jean smash.  


  
From the corner of your eye, you watch Jackie Chan with a hymen ascend into the air, hopping out of the wagon and pushing a hand out to stop it from going any further.  


  
Kind of like in that twilight scene where Edward smacks the car, only better because she’s a hot brunette.  


  
_What am I even referencing at this point?_  


  
”Ever try to separate me from Eren again and you’ll wish you died in this wagon.” She tells the driver cooly, not even a hair out place. What is it with this bitch and pretending like she’s the terminator. “—I’ll be back.”  


  
Yeah, there she is. The fucking terminator, the sexually repressed special edition.  


  
”Who the _fuck_ is Eren?” The driver yells in confusion. “—And how are you threatening to murder me? I literally _want_ to die!”  


  
Mikasa doesn’t bother answering because he’s a disgusting ratatouille of a man, only sparing him one of her death glares. He shuts up pretty quickly because there’s nothing scarier than a teen girl on her period. Throwing a thumb back, she gestures for everyone to haul their asses up. “—Get up. If I have to spend another minute away from Eren, I’ll spontaneously combust.”  


  
Unfortunately, you’re currently lodged in between three people and stuck underneath a whole grown man so it’s harder than she makes it out to be.  


  
Eventually, when Armin manages to untangle himself from Sasha’s headlock and Reiner is able to push himself off of Bert (who is currently praying for forgiveness because being that close to another man is _gay_ ) and you fling Jean’s dirty asscheeks off your face and get up, only to find Connie underneath you but you’d hadn’t noticed because he weighs _two fucking pounds_ in total, is everyone able to get off.  


  
Ymir and Christa were fine and just cuddled throughout the crash. Lesbians truly are the superior race.  


  
”T-that was awful.” Armin hyperventilates into his inhaler.  


  
_How is he asthmatic? Just breathe lmao._  


  
As Reiner helps you off the wagon like a true gentleman, you struggle to catch your breath. It would’ve been a disaster if you died back there and never achieved your dream of fucking at least one foreign person without a visa.  


  
”Try skipping dinner tonight.” You mutter to jean as your babe Reiner keeps you tucked closely under his arm protectively. 

  
What a sweetheart. He’s never been able to stomach vehicular manslaughter.  


  
“So should you.” He flips you off and you gasp, bringing your glossy, iconic, sexy, beautiful, incredible, amazing, show-stopping red nails to your mouth.  


  
What a fucking liar. He was the one who asked you to sit on his rectangular ass head to begin with! And you know he didn’t have any trouble holding you up because he tried to bench press you halfway through showing your coochie some mclovin’ after you called him a puny little rat and then—  


  
”Well, I already am! Not that it has anything to do with my weight because I’m slim thick!” You screech, perhaps somewhat dementedly.  


  
Luckily the [Y/N] protection squad (which sadly only consists of Reiner because Shadis called your recruitment posters anti-virgin propaganda), is there to cheer you up.  


  
”Don’t let him fatshame you, babe. You’re the perfect weight.” Reiner gives you a kiss on the forehead and you grimace. Can he cut it out? What if someone sees him and thinks he’s your boyfriend?  


  
You walk down the path, trying to wiggle your way out of Reiner’s grasp but he’s too strong. He’s been taking extra-strength steroids these days and, honestly, it shows. Even his muscles have muscles.  


  
Reiner’s asscheeks have seen more needles than your veins and you can’t tell whether that’s an accomplishment or concerning. Faintly, you realise that you both may suffer from horrible addictions but it doesn’t ruin your day too much.  


  
After all, only musical legends and pretty people die from long term drug addictions.  


  
You continue your walk (and for Jean, it’s a trot) down the path until you come across someone waiting for you in front a large, castle like building.  


  
“Oh look, more scraps to feed to the titans —“ A tall, decent looking blond catches sight of the herd of virgins behind you. “—It’s about time you got here.”  


  
”Sorry, Sir. The wagon driver tried to crash the wagon by driving the wagon off a hill without all of us in it because Bert kept on preaching about Jesus to him. In the wagon.” Armin explains throughly, a traumatised look on face and you don’t blame him.  


  
_Worst Uber ever._ You think with scowl. If he things you’re going to rate him any higher than one star, he’s got another thing coming.  


  
”Where did that happen again? I don’t think he heard.” You turn your head and ask him with an amused smile.  


  
Armin being a genius should be considered the eighth wonder of the world.  


  
”In the wagon—“ He begins again, ready to tell everyone about the wagon, where it was manufactured, what type of wood it was made from and the life story of the lumberjack who cut that shit up.  


  
”Shut up,” tall, not very dark but still somewhat handsome cuts in. “—I’m Mike and I’ll be leading your orientation. Not that it matters because everyone wants to suck Levi’s underdeveloped balls.”  


  
...Um, okay then.  


  
Mike rolls his eyes and it’s crickets from everyone. How the hell is anyone supposed to respond to that?  


  
Wait, scratch that. How is anyone but _you_ supposed to answer that? You’re the social butterfly of the century, unlike the rest of these unsociable heathens. If anyone can diffuse the shit ton of tension in the air, it’s you!  


  
_I’m like superman but for mentally ill people._  


  
”I’d suck your balls!” You try with a little smile. He should have more confidence in his testes. They’re probably really well shaped and pleasantly scented.  


  
He rolls his eyes even harder now. It’s like he’s trying to play pinball with them. He’s just asking for some sort of ocular trauma at this point.  


  
”Oh, I know. I could smell the _slut_ off of you before you even got here.” He grumbles and you hear a few sniggers from behind you.  


  
He’s so rude that you’re not sure if he’s even worth making a move on. Hopefully, he’ll die before the need to dom him gets too overwhelming.  


  
”—Why are the rest of you laughing? Y’all smell like bitches. It _smells_ like bitch in here. You use windex as shampoo and _you_ got a piss infection!” He points at Jean in judgement before turning to give Sasha the same treatment. Everyone is noticeably shook.  


  
”N-no, I dont.” Sasha laughs nervously and Jean pats his head self consciously, shaking his oblong face in disbelief.  


  
_Windex...is that why his head kept on making squeaking sounds...?_  


  
Ha! It’s what he gets for being fatphobic! Personally, you would’ve preferred for him to be burnt at the stake in front of his mother’s grief-stricken eyes but a public shaming is just as good, you suppose.  


  
He turns on his heel and gestures for the rest of the group to follow him, muttering about how his nostrils would commit ritual sepukku if they could. Mikasa sighs, telling him that if anyone should be commuting ritual sepukku, it’s _her_ as the token Asian girl of the regiment.  


  
”I’ll show you where your capes are then but then I’m going back to my room and lighting some incense. You’re on your own. There’s your orientation for you, dick-swabs.” He mutters the last part to himself, shaking his head disgustedly and you blink—a little in awe at his creativity.  


  
_Dickswabs? He do be freestyling doe..._  


  
You don’t think you’ve ever come across someone as miserable as him and you’re the same person who has to look at yourself in the mirror everyday. He’s like the final boss of depression—all antisocial personality disorder and no serotonin. It’s sort of sexy.  


  
You get your capes and, true to his word, Mike the sniffer dog fucks off to his room with a lavender candle in mind. You wander about aimlessly and break off from the rest of the group, hoping to run into Hange and convince her to give you some crack for free.  


  
_So what if I haven’t paid off my debts? So what if I stole eight pounds of coke off of her and now she has a bounty over my head? This is exactly what’s wrong with today’s society! People don’t let me use and abuse them anymore—_  


  
”[Y/N]?”  


  
You turn to find Eren standing next to a pissed off looking Jean. Wait no. That’s a horse. He’s by the stables. Tending to the horses. Well yikes. That’s a little awkward.  


  
”Oh balls,” You spin around and get ready to Usain Bolt it out of town but he knows that you've heard him.  


  
”I know that you heard you me!”  


  
You groan so hard that it triggers your period.  


  
”Ugh, what is it? Don’t you still hate me for breaking your heart? What do you want?” You stomp over to him with crossed arms.  


  
Eren’s like an annoying ghost that won’t stop haunting you. Every time you take a bath, you wonder if you’ll come out to a message written into the steam of your mirror like ‘avenge my mother with me <3’ or ‘Don’t unclog the drain baby I need your hair for my doll-making class’.  


  
The only difference is that at least ghosts have a significant presence in pop culture and Eren is a little flop without a drop of celebrity status.  


  
He looks annoyed per the usual but childhood trauma will do that for you. Puffing his man titties out and sticking his nose up at you, he begins some sort of an interrogation. What he doesn’t know is that you were born and bred on the cold, hard streets of Beverly Hills. A hood bitch like you will never crack!  


  
”I heard you’ve been talking shit about me!” He shrills. Ugh, you’d forgotten how loud is. Having a conversation with him is like watching a ten-hour loop of the phantom of opera.  


  
When you’re done mourning your ear drums, it registers in your pea sized mind that you’ve been caught red handed. Shit, he could take you to court for this and the last thing you need is to get locked up for something as lame as defamation of character! You’d be guaranteed a lifetime position as a prison bitch and you hear that the pay is super _shit_ whilst the hours are super long.  


  
Luckily, the union of prison bitches have been going on strike recently so you hope that their working conditions’ll change. Good for them!  


  
”Me?” You ask, offended that he accused you of doing something that actually you did. “—I would never!”  


  
Eren looks as though he’s having a hard time believing you despite the fact that you’re the most honest, humanitarian bitch ever. You’ve never told a lie in your life, everything you say is either a scientific fact or something that is a scientific fact yet to be proven!  


  
_My brain is so big...science wants what I have!_  


  
“Then why is everyone saying that I have head lice? Captain Levi locked me in a storage cupboard with a nit comb and told me he wouldn’t let me out until I got rid of every last bug!” He pulls at his hair, clearly irritated at being forced into preserving a sense of persona hygiene.  


  
”Did it work?”  


  
”No!” He throws his hands about, eyes popping out and for some strange reason an imagine of Miles Cyrus with a glock in her head fills your brain. It’s so hard being a higher being/ psychic medium/ oracle/ high functioning nymphomaniac. “—Because I never had them in the first place!”  


  
”...I don’t know. You sound guilty to me.”  


  
He groans so deeply that you count your blessing that Mikasa isn’t here. She would’ve taken it as a sign to smack you into unconsciousness and do the cha cha slide over your spine.  


  
”Okay deny the head lice but pissy sweat? What the fuck is that all about? People wear masks around me now because they think I’ll give them a staph infection!” He whines and you subtly cup your nose with one hand because he literally smells like a raccoon, with or without the rumours you’ve spread about him.  


  
It’s kind of rich coming from you since you only take showers in Christa’s bath water that you cleverly collect in ten millimetre test tubes when she’s busy playing with her rubber duckies and crying about about how she wishes she wasn’t apart of the corrupt monarchy that controls the walls’ population. Whatever, all you know is that her bath water smells really good and if you could snort it, you would.  


  
“I know we didn’t break up on the best of terms but spreading rumours about me—“ Eren’s still wah wah waning and you look over his shoulder longingly. How is does he live in a constant state of rage?  


  
So what if you defamed his name to every living person in the walls? You still gifted him your cooch despite all of his weird kinks. He’s the same guy that liked to jack off between your thighs and call you a Mccum sandwich yet he’s the one complaining! Some people are just never happy with what they have.  


  
”Yeager,” A smooth voice cuts through Eren’s annoying rant. The fact that he dated you for a whole ass month and still isn’t aware that you have no moral compass just goes to show that the Shiganshina kids are little slower than the rest. “—I told you to muck out the stables and instead you’re standing around, opening up about your long-term depression. Any reason for that?”  


  
You turn your head and almost collapse at the sight.  


  
”Uh...sorry, sir!”  


  
_His eyes were grey, sharp and hardened by war; his hair was dark as night and his skin was as pale as a jizz stain on a cum sock. Goddamn, you had fallen in love. Okay, maybe not. He was kind of short and even back then, you were a size queen._  


  
”I asked you for a reason not an apology. God, are all the new recruits as dumb as you?” The love of your fifteen year old life blinks disgustedly at Eren.  


  
Wow, he’s hot _and_ he bullies Eren. How much more perfect can he get? You hear wedding bells clattering in your mind but you’re unsure if it’s your personality disorder acting up or a premonition of love.  


  
Eren fumbles, a blush on his cheeks and arms squashed against his chest as though to make his fat moobs (man boobs uwu) bigger. If you didn’t know Eren to be raging het he is, you’d think he’s a twink with a crush.  


  
”Oh well, it’s just that...I ran into my friend here and we started talking! I got side tracked, I apologise!”  


  
A few things register in your mind, the first being that Eren is such a fucking kiss ass that he might as well take up employment as the scout regiment’s toilet seat.  


  
The second thing you register is that the devil is a lie and that the devil is fucking Eren because there’s no way in dick he’s ever been your friend. The third thing is that you’re foaming at the mouth because it’s Captain Levi, who’s standing right in front your face, and he’s the whole reason you joined this shithole militia.  


  
He’s aged like fine wine and luckily for him, you’re a severely addicted alcoholic!  


  
”You don’t sound like friends to me. More like embittered exes.” Captain Obvious points out and and cup a hand around your mouth to stop yourself from moaning.  


  
”Embittered? We don’t sound embittered, do we?” Eren asks you, face twisted up in horror as though he wasn’t embittered enough to start an argument with upon finding out you had survived a battle that had killed half of the people you grew up with.  


  
”You sound pretty embittered.” Levi shoots you a dirty look and somehow even _that_ is hot when he does it. How? Why?  


  
_Five foot...bad attitude...big ego...and I still want his jump his bones. This is a crime against nature._  


  
You faintly this realise that sort of confusion must be what homophobes feel when they see you and your band of lezzies around town. Poor them.  


  
”Are we?” Eren looks to you for support. You’re too busy simping to give coherent response, eyes firmly planted on short, dark and handsome.  


  
You swear you’ll never clown Sasha about Connie’s height ever again. Dwarf rights!  


  
”Well?” ~~Big dick~~ Levi crosses his arms expectantly. Oh right, he asked a question. Meaning he’ll want an answer. Meaning you’ll have to talk.  


  
”Aaaa...wooga...”  


  
So naturally instead of responding with a coherent ‘yes’ or ‘no’, you decide to start talking like a sim when the woohoo option is selected.  


  
Eren snorts, a questioning look on his face. Why the hell does he have to be here for? Can’t he see that you and Captain Levi are trying to be intimate?  


  
“ _Awooga_?” He looks at you like you need to be put down. “—What the hell is wrong with you, brat? Can’t you talk?”  


  
He verbally abuses you with such elegance and— _ugh_ —you might’ve just creamed yourself and it might’ve been the shameful cream of your life.  


  
You nod your head yes, biting your tongue so harshly that you think it might be bleeding. Of course, it tastes like strawberry jam because even your blood isn’t capable of being ugly.  


  
”So say something.” He orders and you figure that he must be a dom which is hilarious because he’s so tiny. Seriously, look at the size of him! What the fuck is he going to dom? Your ankles?  


  
_Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t. Fucking. Say. It. Don’t it say it. Don’t say it.  
_  


  
”Um...”  


  
_I am capable of speech, Sir. I am capable of speech, Sir. I am capable of speech, Sir—  
_

__

  
”...Can I interest you in a blowjob?” You blurt out like a depressed middle aged salesman in a pitch.  


__

  
Oh balls.  


__


	12. Stream pussy and gold <3 out on iTunes now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dis one is for all my Levi hoes out here 😩😩😩😩I’m here for u

  
”Y’know, call me old fashioned but I was raised to serve my man! I’ll do the dishes, cook his dinner, renounce my right to vote and dedicate myself to looking after him like a good housewife. My sole purpose in life is to make him happy and if he cheats on me then I’ve failed and it’s _my_ fault! He caught _me_ slipping. I’ll beg for his forgiveness but if he wants to cheat me again then he’s free to!” You nod your head enthusiastically, giving him a thumbs up.  


  
The Captain only blinks and passes you the bucket in his hand.  


  
_Oh my God! His germs are gonna touch my germs! They’re gonna have germ sex! I’m passing. The fuck out..._ You squeak internally and all forty three of your other personalities squeal back in response.  


  
“Shut up and get scrubbing.” He speaks in a bored monotone. You swoon. There’s nothing hotter than a man who has absolutely no interest in you whatsoever.  


  
”Sir, yes, Sir!” Cheering, you smile at him as cutely as you can. Captain Levi’s eyes narrow slightly in annoyance, as though he wants to pull out his Titan fighting blades and unalive you where you stand.  


  
And, honestly, you’re not sure about whether it’s your lack of will to live or the fact that you’d go to war for the captain’s dick but you’d gladly let him shank you and never be convicted for it.  


  
“You’re on cleaning duty for a reason brat. It’s a punishment,” Wow, he sounds so depressed. A bit of cooch would definitely cheer him up. “—Now, stop flirting with me before I report you for sexual misconduct.”  


  
Just as you thought, offering to suck the soul out of the captain of your regiment upon meeting him for the first didn’t go down well.  


  
_”Can I interest you in a blowjob?” You blurt out like a depressed middle aged salesman in a pitch. “—They’re of extremely high quality and have a one hundred percent customer satisfaction rate. I have a strict no refunds policy, though!”_  


  
_You’re vaguely aware that this a terrible first impression, mostly because Captain Levi gives off the most incelly of incel vibes up close—but also because your embittered ex boyfriend is literally standing right next to you._  


  
_If this situation could be summed up with an iconic RnB slow jam, it would be bump and grind by the shitstain formally known as R Kelly, purely because of the line: ‘my mind’s telling me no...but my body—my body’s telling me yee-he-es.’  
  
_

__

  
_”...What did you just say?” The Captain asks dangerously. It’s almost like he doesn’t find you attractive. Weird._  


__

  
_Luckily, Eren has your back and cuts in before you can destroy your military career any further._  


__

  
_”Are you fucking serious? I always knew you were a slut but this is too much! I’m right here! Right here! We broke up like what...seven chapters ago? And you’re already fucking other men?” He shrieks and you shield your face in embarrassment, although faintly weirded out about how he thinks you’re all characters in a poorly written fanfic._  


  
_There isn’t a day where you don’t miss the times people could get a cheeky lobotomy on their doorsteps. Now you have to rely on black market surgeons and it’s all so much work. Out of sheer laziness (and fear of Mikasa), you suppose you’ll leave his brain untouched despite how deranged it is. Perhaps when he dies, scientists will preserve it in a bid to understand Shiganshina incestual birth defects._  


  
_Turning from him with a sheepish pout, you shield your face so any innocent bystanders or passers-by will know that you clearly have no association with this muscled sewer rat. After all, you have a reputation to uphold._  


  
_”I only screwed Reiner...” You defend yourself weakly with an annoyed pout. It was some great screwage too so there’s no way he’ll make you regret it! Reiner’s dick is too big for that!_  


  
_”And Jean!” Oh great, those 2D bastards snitched._  


  
_You wonder who it was and in order to work out the answer, utilise the process of elongation. Or is elimination? One of those, you’re not really sure and you don’t really care enough to hunt down that naked mole rat Armin and ask.  
_

__

__

_  
You extensively analyse your comrade’s mannerisms and personality, lowkey sad that they don’t have wikipedia pages you can go off instead because it’d really make this a lot easier. In the end you decide that Mikasa doesn’t care enough about Jean to acknowledge his existence, Bert can’t even say the word ‘sex’ without immediately pleading to God for forgiveness, Armin hasn’t got enough clout to actually be taken seriously when gossiping, Connie’s still concussed from the weight of your thick ass and Reiner is an angel sent from the anal heavens and is capable of doing no wrong._  


  
_The lesbians are innocent because they broke off from the group at the same time as you, telling you very clearly to piss off and stop following them. It was heart-wrenching to say the least. Just when you think you’ve inserted yourself enough into someone’s relationship, they claim you were never apart of it in the first place. And here you thought you were the third member of their little anti-penis club! You even had plans for your fourth anniversary with them!  
_

__

__

_  
Anyways, when you confronted them on how they were literally ripping your heart out of your chest by making an unreasonable request for privacy, all they had to say was that they wanted to explore Christa’s voyeurism kink. Whatever that means. That word is too long and French-sounding for you to understand so you’d like to pretend it doesn’t exist as you do with every other problem in your life._  


  
_However, thanks to your powerful deductive skills and the three episodes of Sherlock you read in the papers whilst high last night—you’ve surmised that Sasha the possum-hunting, crop-harvesting, cousin-loving freak is the culprit! She’s the one who told Eren of your communist deeds, after all you only donated your pussy to Jean out of the kindness of your heart._  


  
_You’re like Jesus but better because instead of feeding the poor, you just twerk for them instead._  


  
_”Jean doesn’t count!”_  


  
_”What do you mean? You fucked him, didn’t you?” He points out as though you give a single fuck about what Eren thinks of you or the way you live your life._  


  
_This has to be misogynistic...you’re not sure of how but it just has to be._  


  
_”...It was all an...illusion.” You place your thumbs next to each other and make a butterfly shape out of your hands, waving your palms like they’re the wings._  


  
_Ha, you used to charge fifty gold coins to do that with your hands at kid’s birthday parties. Granted, a lot of the time you were the only one who was entertained by it but it was a good way to gain the party-goers trust before sneaking out with a lamb-skewer lodged in your mouth and an assfull of presents down your clown pants. In your defence, the war on capitalism will never rest and you don’t care if Kenny is three years old and wants a dinosaur shaped cake! He is the enemy!_  


  
_Sadly, your assassination attempt on the cappies was destroyed after receiving some strongly worded letters of complaint as well a federal investigation launched into you by the FBI._  


  
_”You dirty bitch—“ Aaaand thanks to your short attention span, you manage to ignore everything Eren is saying and focus on the pocket-sized piece of ass that is humanity’s strongest soldier._  


  
_He’s giving you a particularly nasty glower right now. Oh, you get it now. This is going to be a classic enemies-to-lovers sort of setup. Well, luckily for you, you quite enjoy that trope! As long as it isn’t a slow burn. You really haven’t got the patience or mental capacity for slow burns._

  
_You wink at the captain and wiggle a few fingers in a wave whilst Eren barks into your ear. He spits into it by accident and you make a sound of true constipation. Eren Yeager has the tongue of a donkey. There’s no reason for him to be lubing up your ears in broad daylight and yet he insists on doing it. It’s almost like you’re dating again...gross._  


  
_”Shithead one and shithead two shut the fuck up!” Captain Levi breaks through your argument. Eren pipes down immediately, placing his hands behind his back and pouting obediently. A little too obediently in your opinion._

  
_Really? Right in front of your salad?_

  
_”—I don’t care about what type of history you two have. What you just said was terrifying. Not to me, obviously, because I don’t get scared but if I was a pussy like Mike then I’d probably be shivering right now and that’s **not** cool. ” He takes a step closer and you gulp. This is getting steamy. “—if you’re so eager to lend your services then I know exactly where else you can be of use.”_

__

  
_”....So you want an ass job?” You clarify. Wow, the captain is a freak. Most guys don’t come out as anal lovers until the second date with you. Eh, unless they’re Reiner. Reiner pretty much bent over and spanked his own ass the minute you met him._  


__

  
_The way he ended toxic masculinity...he did more for feminism than Harry Styles and his ugly dresses ever did!_  


__

  
_”...An ass job?” The captain repeats in slow horror before gagging so hard you think a fur ball might drop straight out of his mouth. “—I was talking about cleaning, you fucktard! I want you to clean! Ugh, wait, stop talking, I think I just threw up in my mouth.” Quasimodo with a shank looks away in repulsion, his hunched ass back jerking with the movement. You sigh dreamily._  


__

  
_He’s so handsome when he’s physically nauseated by the sight of you._  


__

  
And that’s how you came to be here, scrubbing away at some ugly wardrobe that a family was probably tied up and left to rot in during an unfortunate home invasion. F in the chats, you guess.  


__

~

__

  
”Hey, Captain? I have a question.”  


__

  
You can’t take the silence anymore. You’ve been on cleaning duty for the last three hours and all you’ve had to stimulate your ear drums is the squeaking of the wardrobe you’re cleaning as well as the seductive whispers the captain keeps letting out as he strokes his detergent collection.  


__

  
”Oh, yeah I’m gonna spray you. I’m gonna spray you so hard— _what_?” He looks back at you like you’re the most evil thing to ever emerge from a vagina.  


  
Something tells you that the captain wants some alone time with his Mr muscle bottles.  


  
”...I have a question?” You repeat although you’re not completely sure of whether you actually want to talk to him ever again.  


__

  
Captain Levi seems to share to same sentiment, his brows twitching in annoyance at the sound of your voice. It’s interesting how the only people who pull that face around you are either horses or lesbians. You wonder which one of the two he is.  


“If I have to hear one more of your _questions_ , I’m gonna fling you out of that window.” He grunts from behind his mask, eyes narrowed so harshly it looks like they’re closed.  


__

  
Wow. Aggressive much? You can’t say you blame him too much. After all, to meet a person as iconic as you is a rarity and for you to be this good-looking on top of all that greatness? The captain must be in shock and if he let actually let you go within a ten mile radius of him, you’d wrap him up in a blanket burrito to help with the trauma.  


__

  
_That mask on his face...that scarf on his head...he’s serving naughty nurse realness..._  


__

  
”I just wanted to know if you’re up to play a game, Sir. It’s rather boring, cleaning in silence. I was thinking...Twenty questions, maybe?” You pout, a little sullen at the captain’s pessimism.  


  
You’ve liked him for as long as you can remember. Most girls your age went through one direction phases or were radicalised by BTS supremacy organisations because the word on the street is those men are hip-thrusting demons. You, on the other hand, are _quirky_ and not like the other girls! You spent your teen years much more maturely—dreaming of getting drilled by a two foot midget that stabs people for a living.  


__

  
But now that you’ve met him, you can honestly say he’s the most disappointing creature you’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting in all nineteen years of your miserable existence. It still won’t stop you from becoming his professional foot stool, though.  


__

  
_And boy does he need that stool...I’ve never seen a spine so crooked in my life. Even Connie isn’t this bad._  


__

  
”Twenty questions? You want to play twenty questions?” The captain cocks a brow in distain when you nod eagerly in response. “—[L/N], Where the fuck do you think you are right now? Summer camp?”  


__

  
”No, Sir! People are _way_ easier there.” You laugh a little to yourself and the captain shoots you what has to be the thousandth dirty look of the day.  


__

  
After the extensive research you’ve conducted on summer camps, you’ve concluded that there’s a ninety-nine point nine percent chance that they are the reason why teen pregnancy rates are so high. After some more research, you’ve also concluded that paired with your obese porkhole, it is also the reason why the back-street abortion industry is doing so well.

__

  
That being said, they’re also a lot of fun! It’s not Thursday but you’re willing to throwback to the time you snuck into some random ass summer camp and managed to push your body count up by eight guys all in one day! And to think, you did all of that whilst wearing a necklace made of macaroni pasta, knee length shorts and a tie-dye shirt. It that isn’t a testament to your seduction skills and dashing good looks then you don’t know what is.  


__

  
Unfortunately, the fun was cut short when some loser camp counsellor realised you were an imposter with no forms of documentation relating to the camp on you. Courtesy of him being a dirty little snitch, you had to ODM your way to freedom before the cops could lock your ass up and, ultimately, ended up missing the entire campfire karaoke activity they had planned. You had a solo song planned for that and everything!  


__

  
_It’s all fun and games until I show up with a cover of Celine Dion’s ‘My Heart Will Go On’_.  


__

  
Luckily, the reputation of the training corps didn’t suffer too badly because the cops just assumed it was another fugly teen who escaped from the rathole formerly known as the Capital in a bid for a normal life. But _lmaoooo_ who gives a shit about capital kids? Hurray for classism and oppressing those who are financially disadvantaged!  


__

  
”Summer camp is cool, Sir, you shouldn’t talk badly of it.” You pout, cutely, and Captain Levi is visibly annoyed by it. He sighs but because he’s wearing a mask it sounds like he’s dying on a respirator.  


__

  
”You’re not going to stop bothering me, are you kid?” You frown a little at his words.  


__

  
You’re a legal adult and a grown woman who is very capable of looking after herself, settling down with a man and carrying his triplets but he just doesn’t seem to realise it. It’s like Beyoncé and Jay Z all over again, a hot, fierce power-vocalist of a woman settling for a man is so hideous looking that he should take up permanent employment as the monster that hides under small children’s beds.  


  
Only the captain is actually incredibly handsome and you’re sure he’s acutely aware of chapstick. Still, he’s way too...small to have the attitude he does. If you squint hard enough, you lose all sight of his hair and then he just looks like Connie.  


  
_Ohhhhhh, I get it now! He must be infantilising me to compensate for his tragic lack of height! There’s no way he doesn’t actually like me!_ You smirk, proud of how you singlehandedly washed the detective industry with your mind-boggling deductions. Your mind...it’s just so powerful...  


__

  
”Nah,” You shrug. “—Wanna play?”  


__

  
Mikasa with a schlong lets out an irritated grunt but you dated Eren for a whole month so you’re used to having your ear drums bleed until you pass out. Turning your head back at him, you wait for him to ask you a question all so you can pounce.  


__

  
”What is your favourite animal—“ He begins slowly but you’re quick to give him the facts.  


__

  
” _Yellow_. You a virgin?” You smile, punctuating your question with a spray of carpet cleaner.  


__

  
Captain Levi looks at you like your mother’s womb is the most cursed thing known to mankind and in all honesty, it is. Your sainted great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandmother (bless her soul) fucked a witch’s husband a few decades ago and in retaliation for getting her man’s stolen, she cursed every female in your bloodline to be a pussy-popping whore. Every day, you thank that salty ass satanist for the abundance of dick she’s bought you over the years.  


__

  
“Hey, hey! Check what you’re using. Carpet cleaner belongs on _carpets_ ,” The captain chews you out in the name of his blessed detergent collection. “—And no, I’m not. Do you do any sports?”  


__

  
”Yeah. Plenty,” You grin at him. You’re a competitive swimmer, as shown by the time you sadly had to save Eren from imminent death. Personally, you prefer to swim in _other_ fluids. Like a mermaid. But for sperm. A Spermaid. “— Have you got any plans this weekend?”  


__

  
”...Yeah. Plenty,” He parrots you with a smugness on his face that makes your knees buckle. Or maybe it’s the anaemia. “—Are you always such a pervert or am I just special?” He bats his eyelashes sarcastically and you giggle girlishly to yourself. Fuck, you think you love him.  


__

  
Normally that revelation would shock you to the core but it’s _Levi_ and everyone knows that he’s the sexiest bunch of pixels to come around since Dazai from Bungou Stray Dogs. Not that you know who he is because you come from a completely different fictional universe and this _isn’t_ a crossover fic.  


__

  
”Oh, you’re very special! Not special in a sexual sense because I pretty much fuck everyone I come into contact with but I think I’m in love with you so I guess that’s something? Right? Don’t you think so?” Midget Mcmidgetson looks more disturbed with every word you speak. Of course, you know the truth and it’s just an expression of his affection for you.  


__

  
”You need to be locked up, you’re not all there mentally,” He sighs after long moment. “—But if you claim to like me so much then I’ll hold you to that. Let’s say, hypothetically speaking, if I had an _interest_ in rap music and I would be willing the leave the scouts to pursue it. Would you support me as my partner? This is all hypothetical by the way, ha ha, so don’t get your hopes up.” He clears his throat after letting out a gloriously nervous chuckle. You squeak excitedly.  


__

  
He’s practically getting down on one knee and proposing! You never thought you’d see the day but here it is! And to think the man that’s popping the question looks like your infant child. There’s no way this fucker is in his mid thirties. You can’t tell whether you’re crying out of sadness or joy. Probably both.  


__

  
”Of course, I would! You’re really underestimating how obsessed with you I am,” You look at him like he’s dumb. Ugh, hasn’t he ever heard of yanderes? Uncultured swine. “—If you wanna be Eldian Tupac then I’ll happily support your dreams! I’ll be there at every studio session, every time you partake in recreational drug abuse and when you suddenly get shot to the death in the middle of streets, I’ll be the first one to fuck your rapper best friends in your honour. Don’t I sound like a riot?”  


__

  
You continue your sales pitch, feeling remarkably happy. You figure it’s the feeling of true true love. Now that you’ve opened up your heart in addition to your legs, you feel like a new person. Now, all you need to do is say yes to him and then you’ll be whisked away like a Disney Princess in a vaguely misogynistic tale, ready to depend on your man for the rest of your days!  


  
_Taking a break from feminism to simp over Captain Levi...self care methinks!_  


  
”Who the fuck is Eldian Tupac?” He barks, face scrunched up in anger. Awww. He’s like a little Pomeranian with muscles.  


__

  
“No! I mean, _we’re_ Eldian and Tupac is a rap—“ You try to explain but the father of your unborn children looks disinterested. Letting out a sigh, you change up your tactics. “—Anyways, I really like you and you should like me too because I’m as good as it gets. Literal walking perfection. I’ll even let you cheat on me with your groupies once you get famous. Aren’t I the full package?” You wink  


__

  
He lowers his head, nodding with a convinced look.  


__

  
”Mm. You do sound like the whole package.” He murmurs, placing his emergency comfort sponge down and resting a hand on his hip.  


__

  
”See! All of that _and_ I’m great at giving head! Ask anyone and they’ll tell you—“  


__

  
” _Where’s that thieving bitch_?” An enraged growl echoes outside in the hall and you squeak in fear. Levi blinks at you lazily.  


__

  
”Ahh! A visually impaired chemist!”  


__

  
You swing the door to the wardrobe open and hop inside, just as a red faced Hange walks through the door. Through a convenient crack between the wardrobe doors, you watch her become the most heinous cockblock the world has ever seen.  


__

  
”Well, if it isn’t Pablo Escobar with two percent vision in each eye. Any reason as to why you’re contaminating my freshly frebreezed room with your crack stench?” He asks tiredly whilst discarding of his gloves and reaching to put on a new pair.  


__

  
Hange isn’t bothered by his petty insults, only slinging an arm around him and chuckling heartily. You seethe from inside of the wardrobe, clenching an annoyed fist. This bitch better take her hands off of your man or else you’ll sit here and wait for her to stop. And she really doesn’t want _that_.  


__

  
”Levi, still as depressing as ever!” She smiles fondly and he, too, looks a little happy to see her. What a homewrecker. “—Look, I won’t waste your time because I know how much you enjoy these little cleaning...jackoff...thingy sessions of yours. I heard a new enlistee named [L/N] was put on cleaning duty. I’m looking for her.”  


__

  
You catch his eyes flicker to the wardrobe momentarily before going back to Hange’s. Oh, well that’s not suspicious at all, is it? When you get out of this wardrobe, you’re gonna be sure to instigate your first fight as a couple! And he’s sleeping on the couch tonight! And his mother is a bitch!  


__

  
Hange’s crack spoon is so fat down her gut that your own gag reflex lowers it head in shame. Come to think of it, you don’t think you’ve ever seen her without it. It’s shocking to think that people say _you_ need rehab when this six foot tarantula is still alive and kicking. She smokes all of her own fucking merchandise! What kind of a cartel leader—  


__

  
“No. You must be mistaken.” And of course, your husband covers for you because A) he’s terribly in love with you and B) snitches get stitches.  


__

  
”Uh, really? Yeager came crying to me earlier and was bitching about how she hit on you. Told me you put her into the cleaning squad immediately and that she offered you an ass job. Ha, that’s _so_ [Y/N]. What a funny kid.” She snorts lightly like she’s your bffie and not a blood-thirsty crack-dealer who’s out for revenge.  


__

  
You’re pretty sure she’ll get over this in like a week. After all, it’s not the first time you’ve stolen from her and Hange isn’t the type to hold grudges. In fact, you’re certain she’ll still invite you to her birthday bash this year—she’s turning thirty so naturally it’s a big one. You have just the gift for your favourite four eyed hag.  


__

  
”Can I ask what business you have with her?” He expertly changes the topic but his eyes are still, annoyed, impatient with the distinct look that is ‘fucking Yeager why can’t he ever keep his mouth shut?’  


__

  
Maybe, as your new boyfriend, you should get him to fight Eren. Assert his dominance and all of that toxically masculine fuckery the male species get up to. Honestly, men are a mess and they start _early_. You have a theory that it stems from realising that they enjoyed sucking the nutrients out of their mother’s in womb so much that they decide to suck the happiness from women’s lives upon leaving it. Unfortunately, Harvard hasn’t gotten back to you on that one but you’re gonna give them another call this evening.  


__

  
That being acknowledged, you feel as though Male derangement peaks at a certain age. Due to personal reasons and the fact that you can’t look at number without crying, you’re just gonna call it ‘puberty’. The boy’s locker room is the walls’ equivalent to the African Savanna, only the African Savanna is significantly cleaner and actually contributes to the godforsaken anal bead known as planet Earth. You know that because you’ve spent an ungodly amount of time there with Marco and Reiner, doing equally ungodly things.  


__

  
_When I get that ouija board...it’s over for you Marcus. You will get that ten-fifteen titty fuck._  


__

  
“She’s taken something valuable to me.” Hange clicks her tongue and looks around the room, strolling around casually as her crack spoon clanks in her mouth. Ew, is there rust on that thing?  


__

  
And as punishment for supporting gay rights and constantly having a hand down your pants, God lets her stops directly outside of the wardrobe you’re currently clinging to life in. It stinks like old farts in here. And some new ones. You had Indian last night.  


__

  
”So she stole your crack and now you’re sad because she got to smoke it before you did? Hange, we talked about this. This is why the business is _failing_.” He pulls his mask off and grips her arms, pulling her away from you.  


__

  
Wow. You almost like him as much you like Christa now.  


__

  
”Failing? You want to talk about failing? You’re a soundcloud rapper! What—what was your album called again? How many sales did it make?” She grins evilly and Levi’s face reddens, eyes darting back to the wardrobe. You cup your face a shaky palm, trying not to cackle. Lmao, she ate him up on that one.  


__

  
” _Pussy and gold_ sold more than any of your shitty drugs in the last three months! Mind your business, you half-blind bitch.” He scowls and lets out such an ugly laugh that she sounds like she has a rat in her mouth.  


__

  
“...You sold three albums. Me and Erwin bought two.”  


__

  
He pulls the exact expression you imagine you pulled when Jean took out his unnaturally big schlong that evening in the rose bushes. Absolute _terror_ and it’s because he’s so terrified that you know he bought the third one.  


__

  
Who would’ve thought that humanity’s strongest soldier is a flopping underground rapper who buys his own albums because no one else will? Goddamn, he’s so _much_ of a flop that he was allowed to call his album ‘pussy and gold’ without being censored because the boards who regulate that sort of shit didn’t even know he was releasing an album to begin with.  


__

  
”It was a _mixtape_!” He argues glumly. This is first time you’ve ever seen some semblance of emotion on his face and you don’t like it very much. “—Not an album. Get it right.”  


  
He looks like dead body that’s been deliberately made to pose by his sadistic murderer who gets off on taunting the cops. You literally never want to see his facial muscles move that much ever again.  


  
_This feels like the shitty plot before the porn. Maybe if I just peek my head out a little..._

  


  
You can’t help being such a nosy whore. There’s something inside of you—probably the constant need for attention and narcissistic personality disorder—that makes you wants to burst through the doors, pull out a bag of popcorn and watch her tear down this pathetic little shrimp of a man down to pieces. It just looks so fun out there.  


__

  
Inside, however, is just as action packed. There’s a rat currently trying to climb on top of you to get a better view of the mess outside and you swat at it, telling it kindly to get lost. You don’t want to miss a single second of this fuck-fest. Especially over some trashy rodent that’s probably vaguely related to you.  


__

  
”Scram. Get out of here!” You whisper shout and it hisses at you before hopping onto your shoulder and squeezing it’s little rat nose through the crack. Ugh, it’s probably just given you the an advanced form of the plague...the fucking super plague.  


__

  
_I’m gonna get out of here and sneeze on Ymir just to be petty. If I’m going down, there’s no way in hell that bitch isn’t coming with me._  


__

  
Hell is going to be boring as fuck once you’ve seduced everyone there. Ymir, as much as she pretends to a wlm stick up the ass, is undoubtedly a hoot to be around. She’s the only one that lets you drink until you pass out and because of that, you somewhat like her.  


__

  
”—And it flopped. _Hard_. But that’s okay, you still have your unbelievably successful career as a military Captain.” Hange rattles on outside because she’s too four eyed to see that no one gives a shit.  


__

  
”Don’t talk to me about flopping when we haven’t gone on an expedition for months now because you can’t stop smoking your own shit! Get help, your lungs are one smoke away from having a nervous breakdown.” He rolls his eyes. You and the wardrobe rat look at each other in shock. He did not just go there.  


__

  
To think that Ergbert Smith had scared you into prying open Sasha’s hillbilly turkey flaps to pass a piss test when his own expeditions are funded by _your_ drug habits! Literally, you’re Hange’s best customer, she even gives you special little birthday packages and discount prices.  


  
Hell, this whole Regiment practically belongs to you. You probably funded the tents, the horses, the fancy little capes and ODM gear. You probably funded the toilets they shit in and the paper the scouts wipe their tight little asses with yet they have the sheer gall to treat you like this?  


__

  
You always knew you were the backbone of the scout regiment, even as a simple cadet slaving her ass off in training, but to see proof of it feels like a true victory.  


  
_This is my world and they’re just living in it!_

  


  
The tea simmers down as you consider blackmailing the entire regiment in exchange for money. Oh wait. They’re broke. So broke, in fact, that it’s a surprise that they haven’t started blackmailing _you_ instead. So much for your amazingly strategic plan. Perhaps, it’s best if you leave all the brainy shit to Armin since he actually had the cranial capacity for it.  


__

  
Behind those bangs, lies a morbidly obese forehead. He was smart for getting that little androgynous trim of his but he can’t fool you. You’ve caught glimpses of it—a forehead so huge it looks like it has an erection. One day, the world will know it too.  


__

  
“—Listen, Levi. I’m not going to check the rota because I trust you and I’d like to think you wouldn’t lie to me.” Hange pulls away from him and gives the ceo of hip hop a polite smile. “—If I don’t find that weasel here, then I’ll find her elsewhere. Enjoy your cleaning sesh.”  


__

  
You don’t particularly enjoy being called a weasel by someone who literally sticks test tubes up her fat cooter and pretends Isaac Newton is the one doing it to her but oh well. She’s gonna die as she lived—a nerdy, dickless virgin—and that’s all that brings you comfort in this sick and twisted world.  


__

  
The door clicks shut behind you and Levi stomps over to the wardrobe and hurls it open. For some strange, unknown reason, he’s horrified to find the rat vibing on top your head whilst you’re crying with laughter, a hand still clapped around your jaw because if Hange heard then she probably would have rolled you up, lit you on fire and smoked you instead of her crack.  


__

  
”Shut up.” Levi grumbles, swatting the air because at this point you smell of bacterial vaginosis. Not that it matters because stinking a little is incomparable to the fact that this man is four foot tall, has hair on his toes and wants to be a fucking rapper.  


  
”Pussy and gold?” You wheeze so hard, you think you might’ve just swallowed your own tongue. Maybe you don’t need that ouija board after all. With the way you can’t breathe, chances are Marco’ll be able to dick you down in person.  


__

  
”Yeah, pussy and gold, you crackhead bitch. _Stream_ it.” He flings you into the ground and you’re almost certain he’s cracked a rib.  


__

  
_Oooh, Mikasa tease!_ You have a cheeky giggle, feeling your asshole literally seal shut in order to prevent your organs from flying out it.  


__

  
”Stop domestically abusing me, Sir!” You wail, picking yourself up from the ground when you’re done ridiculing your superior. “—I’m not judging you. So what if you’re a flop rapper who’ll never make it to the billboard hot 100 unless you die an early death? I like you for your looks, not your talent! That being said, we should get married!” You smile widely, completely fucking cock eyed because he’s decided to give you brain damage on your first day of work.  


__

  
_Oh my God, is this how deaf people feel?_ You palm your face, brushing your hands against your eyes wildly. You can’t even begin to imagine how hard life without smell would be.  


__

  
The four Levi’s in front of you roll their eyes and it’s bizarrely trippy. It feels like you’ve bought the most potent weed in the world but instead of smoking it like a normal human being, you’ve dipped it in crack and decided to chew on it like gum. How this man is so strong at his little height should literally be investigated by buzzfeed unsolved.  


__

  
You’d say the cops but they’re not as efficient.  


__

  
”...You’re genuinely the worst person I’ve ever met. Worse than _Yeager_ and he calls me mommy when he thinks I’m not listening.” He tuts sourly and it’s such a beautiful sound that you want it to be played at your wedding when you formally become Mrs Levi Ackerman, the sole recipient of life’s wealth when he dies.  


  
Maybe, because he loves you so much, he’ll be willing to let you live out your fantasy of an open relationship where cheating isn’t acknowledged as a real thing.  


  
”Hey, are you a Mormon?” You lift your head up and ask him the real questions people should be coming out with on first dates.  


  
Even with how relevant your question is to the cleanliness of the room, you can’t say you’re too surprised when the captain walks out and slams the door shut behind him.  


  
Then you pass out because he kicked you so hard that think you’re leaking your own spinal fluid. It’s only until you wake up a few hours later that you realise you’re good.  


  
You just pissed yourself instead.  


__

~

__

  
”My Lord, you look like shit!” The number one Jesus Christ stan hollers as you plop your fat ass down opposite him.  


__

  
”...Your name is _Bertolt_ ,” You pause and look him dead in the eye to show him who’s really in control here. It’s crickets from the entire table.“—Yeah, that’s what I thought.”  


__

  
Bertie, sexy and humongous as he is, really shouldn’t try you what with the state his birth certificate is in. The devastation you’d feel if your mother carried you in her womb for nine months and went through the pain of child birth only to look you in the face and call you some fuck shit like Bertolt is indescribable.  


  
Mama Hoover needs to literally be prosecuted as a war criminal for coming up with something so clapped. Her mind is truly a sick and twisted place.  


__

  
_She should’ve aborted him and kept his placenta instead._  


__

  
”What’s got your panties in a twist?” Jean sniggers and Connie gives him a betrayed look, big bald head glinting under the moonlight.  


__

  
“You, bro, you.” He shakes his head and Sasha taps him consolingly on the back but he doesn’t register it because he’s trash just like the rest of his disgusting band of penis carriers.  


__

  
What Sasha sees in him is beyond you. Honestly, you think it’s just because he’s not related to her but looks inbred enough to be. Just seeing his puny, pathetic face makes you want to grab the bread slices on your tray, slap them onto his cheeks and call him an idiot sandwich. And funnily enough, he’s one of the few people you actually _like_.  


__

  
”It was a one time thing, believe me.” You take a bite of your bread, noticing a six foot DILF and his Oompa Loompa bestie sitting next to him.  


__

  
It looks like you’ve got the best seat in town with premium access to all the senior citizens your hole desires. It should be illegal to be as hot and elderly as them. You’d happily work in a retirement home, wiping the incontinent asses of dementia patients if it meant encountering delicious specimens like the ones before you right now.  


__

  
_Eggort and Levi...I have plans for us. Many plans._  


__

  
”No, it wasn’t. I had you screaming. You were like _Jean, baby, it’s so big! I feel it in my brain_ and I was like... **I know**! Ha ha ha ha ha!” He and the rest of the table crack up at his bad impression of you. Your reflexes kick in and, automatically, you give him a juicy middle finger.  


__

  
”Awww, kinda like how you started crying mid-stroke because it felt and I _quote_ ‘like being back in the womb’. Ain’t that something?” You keep your eyes focused on your husband and his friend who you’ll inevitably have a threesome with, but feel his embarrassment through your mean-spirited psychic energy.  


__

  
”Jean, please say you didn’t fuck my ex and pretend to be her child at the same time. I don’t need any more reasons to cut you off!” Eren says. It’s painfully rich coming from him. He has such of bad case of the mommy kink that you’re surprised he’s hasn’t accused Jean of cultural appropriation.  


__

  
”...She’s lying.” Jean murmurs and takes a huge swig of water that lasts way too long. His head is shaped like the flip flop Ghandi wore during his seventy-two hour peaceful protests and yet you’d still happily die on his dick.  


  
Your life is a literal Shakespearean tragedy.  


  
Egbin Smith catches your stare and gives you stern look, popping his eyes out like he’s got a hair stuck in his cornea whilst Levi visibly wretches at the sight of you. You blow them both a kiss.  


  
”Ooh, what’s this? Damning yourself to Hell once again?” Bert follows your gaze and clicks his tongue disappointedly.  


  
You can’t help but feel kind of bad for Bert. He streams all of Jesus’ albums, bought his autobiography, goes to all of his Sunday fanmeets but still has no clout. No bitches. No paper. No juice. Nothing. Sure, God blessed him with a gorilla dick but God also told him he can’t use it. You can’t help but feel as though their relationship is extremely one sided.  


  
”Only because you won’t bump uglies with me.” You roll your eyes. “—God didn't say be a pathetic virgin, you know.”  


  
Bert blinks.  


  
”Yes, he did.”  


  
Mikasa cuts in and asks you to pass the jug of water on your end of the table. You lean forward and push your titties out, just in case anyone’s forgotten you have the best tits in room (aside from Eren’s double d’s).  


  
If brazzers has taught you anything, it’s that every situation is an orgy waiting to happen and you won’t forget that so easily! Who knows? Maybe your double d’s will entice Levi and this time, he’ll propose to you with a diamond instead of bottle of toilet bleach.  


  
“You’re kind of quiet today,” Armin notes randomly, neck twitching awkwardly, probably due to neurological trauma he’s sustained from years of having Annie whoop his ass during sparring.  


  
”...Oh yeah, um, it’s because I’ve fallen in love. Seriously. I have someone I want to settle down with and I’d like to spend my time staring at them, if that’s okay .” You turn away from the Captain for the first time since you sat down for dinner, eager to gauge their reactions. You wouldn’t be surprised if they showered you in confetti, endlessly proud of you for opening up your heart and—  


  
Connie lets out a howl of laughter, followed by the rest of the fugly ass bitches you’re forced to associate with. Eren spits out his water and Mikasa dabs at his mouth before getting her fingers slapped away and you swear she _moans_ at it. The way her pussy is in literal drought season makes you want to cry.  


  
Or maybe it’s the fact that you’re getting bullied by everyone who you planned on inviting to your wedding. The whole table is in stitches, giggling it up like you’re hosting a stand up show—which you could if you wanted to. You’re pretty fucking funny.  


  
”You guys are so fucking extra,” you roll your eyes, noticing the weird looks other scours across the canteen are giving you. In an act of adult maturity, you decide to cross your eyes at them until they feel so uncomfortable that they can’t physically look at you any more.  


  
”She—she thinks she has the emotional capacity for love!” Sasha barks with such a fat hunk of broccoli in her mouth it looks like she’s trying to fight it.  


  
_Ew. I can see her uvula from here._  


  
”I do! I’m very much in love!” You frown crossing your arms. You don’t know why you felt the need to tell them anyways. It’s not like their opinions are of any value.  


  
Half of the bitches on this table are orphans and the other half are well on their way to becoming orphans. Your point being, if they don’t even have enough clout to make their parents stick around, then they certainly don’t have enough clout to make _you_ stick around. These people are exact type of toxicity you should have left behind last year.  


  
“With who?” Mikasa asks dryly from behind her even drier scarf.  


  
You simply nod towards your two foot bae who currently looks like he’s trying to make his plate explode with his mind by squinting at it.  


  
Bert smiles and claps his hands together, obviously sensing an opportunity to make this about his faves.  


  
”I think we should pray! This is a beautiful reformation and it’s important to thank God for—“ He tries and you really have to give him credit for that.  


  
Still, Christianity doesn’t get your back blown out in the passenger seat of a moving wagon so you’re not interested in what he has to offer. The Jesus simp rolls his eyes triggeredly and tells you that he’s too busy to talk to you anyway, before storming out to presumably bomb an abortion clinic.  


  
”The Captain? That’s...ambitious, even by your standards.” Sasha tells you, probably because she just learned what the word ambitious means yesterday and has been dying to use it in a sentence ever since.  


  
”How is it ambitious? We’re a perfect match! I mean...just _look_!” You gesture to him and your slaves all turn to look at him.  


  
Just one look is all they need to understand that you and Levi are the soulmate au of the century! You don’t need a red string of fate or to be colourblind with mysteriously well-matched outfits for a bitch that’s colourblind to know that Levi is the one for you! You had known it when he first called you a shithead, literally eight hours ago. Soul. Mates.  


  
”Is he...is he seasoning his food with _gunpowder_?” Jean asks, watching Levi’s little midget fingers crack open a sachet of suspiciously grey powder and licking the residue off of his thumb. Eggba looks down at him in disgust.  


  
_Oh my God. He’s so embarrassing. I think I’m gonna die._  


  
”It’s...jerk seasoning, now shut up!” You scowl. Doesn’t he know that horses eat in stables? What is his fat mouth even doing here? “—And it’s not overly ambitious! There’s no one I can’t make love me.”  


  
”There’s no one you can’t _seduce_ ,” Armin corrects, forehead quivering in pleasure. “—There’s a distinct difference.”  


  
Why are they so against you making any major changes to yourself? Whenever you try to better yourself, to become kinder or less slutty, they always stop you in the end! Ugh, why couldn’t they have died in Trost? At least then you could’ve used the tragedy for your own character development.  


  
You bet they’re just jealous of you! After all, you’re hot _and_ smart—just like that chick from Legally Blonde with the gay dog only better because you’re not a scum-sucking capitalist!  


  
”Yeah? Well...the government killed your grandfather.”  


You fire back lamely but it’s enough to rip his soul out, open up his mouth and fart in it as a replacement. He looks to Mikasa for emotional support but she’s too busy thirsting over Eren to care.  


  
He should really get better friends. They don’t a rat’s ass about him _at all_. Literally. All they do is fuel his inferiority complex and make him third wheel in their weird sibling incest roleplay thing they have going on.  


  
Armin has at least one Britney Spears style meltdown a day because Mikasa’s more hench than him and can’t even face Eren half the time because he knows Harry Styles would play him in a live action remake whilst little Armin would probably get the sex symbol known as Donald Trump.  


  
If you were him, you’d literally hopscotch over the walls just to see if you’d die or not, purely because it sounds more fun than ever being in the company of the most ghetto attempt at an interracial relationship you’ve ever seen. Mikasa has her rancid fucking scarf to blame for that.  


  
”Okay, so you love Captain Levi,” Eren starts up his eighty-fifth breakdown of the day. “—But where was this energy when we were dating? I was courteous, kind and mildly obsessed with you but you gave me nothing back in return! We dated for a whole month and you still didn’t fall in love with me!”  


  
”What’s your point?” You rub at your temples, eyes closed and trying to picture yourself anywhere other than here with his lice-infected head.  


  
”My point is all you need these days is be legally registered as a midget and all of sudden, everyone wants your dick for dinner! What’s that all about?” He screams, voice echoing throughout the hall. Mikasa pats him on the back.  


  
”You’re perfect, Eren.” She whispers gently.  


  
”No, he’s not,” You snort at the karate kid reject. “—Don’t lie to him. _You’re trash_!” You cup a hand around your mouth and whisper it to him, just so it sounds extra mean.  


  
Ha, it’s what he gets for being head over heels in love with you!  


  
”Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!” Connie and Sasha egg you on rocking their fists up and down.  


  
But you’re not particularly interested in getting into a boxing match tonight, most probably because you’d lose. And also, there’s the fact that you’re tired as hell and was domestically abused today by the love of your life.  


  
Mikasa gives them a look and they cut it out instantly.  


  
”You guys are haters,” You twirl a luscious, iconic, sexy, well-conditioned lock of hair around your finger. “—But it’s okay. Haters are my motivation, baby.”  


  
”...No, you’re just a sociopath and you’re not capable of love.” Armin opens up his fat mouth again and goddamn, it’s so big that it’s like looking into a cave. You wouldn’t be surprised if a bat came flying out of there.  


  
”I am not a _soapy-path_! I love plenty of people!” You frown. He always has to pull out of those big words like okay dictionary dot com.  


  
_How are his only personality traits being smart and a Nazi?_  


  
“Like?”  


  
”...L-Levi?” You try lamely.  


  
Of course, it flops but that much is obvious. How are you supposed to pass a mental health test you haven’t revised for? This is a set-up! These fake ass bitches just want to embarrass you! They just see you die alone. Ha! Well, you won’t. Not as long as you keep your affiliation with the Wall Rose BDSM society.  


  
”Try again.” Jean sticks his stupid nose into your business.  


Ugh, he’s a man. He should be fixing a tire or dying in a war but instead he’s here getting involved in women’s business? It don’t make no cents. You almost hate the gender equality movement for allowing you to have the right to sit on the same table as him.  


  
”You know what? Fuck all of you! I am capable of love!” You pick your tray up and get ready to make your dramatic exit. “—And Ymir’s gonna be so pissed off when she finds out you bullied me without her! Just wait til I tell her, you’re all finished!”  


  
You strut out of the canteen, tired of listening to their evil accusations. They’re smoking dick if they think they’re invited to your wedding now.  



	13. Shooters for armin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my fellow simps! I want to thank everyone for supporting this trash this ugly ratty ass fic !! I didn’t think people would be interested in this sort of fic but I’m so glad you guys are :D it makes me really happy when I see you guys comment ! I really feel like you’re my friends <3
> 
> That being said if there’s any things you’d like to see or future pairings (I’m working on incorporating more Levi/hange moments rn because some of you guys wanted that) then I’d be more than happy to include it!
> 
> See you hoes in the next chapter 😼
> 
> ALSO LOOK ELENA I ADDED IN UR MAN BUT AT WHAT COST ????? WHAT COST???

  
You burst into Mikasa’s room, panting like Armin’s whenever he’s made to anything that requires physical movement.  


  
”Oh my God!” You wail, throwing your hands in the air. “—That Earthquake was huge! Are your titties okay? Take off your bra so I can check!”  


  
She cranes her neck up awkwardly, mid-way through a sit up, only to find you shivering on her bedroom floor like those bad actresses in over edited Indian dramas. You peek up at her slyly and literally feel your brain short circuit.  


  
In that tank top, with _that_ set of abs, she looks like the biggest domestic abuser known to mankind. It still won’t stop you from simping over her.  


  
”...There wasn’t an earthquake.”  


  
You give her a horrified look. Well damn, she didn’t need to do you like that. Can’t she ever play along, for once? It’d make this so much less awkward.  


  
”...Um...there was.”  


  
You nod, flattening your lips together in the most convincing look you can muster which is, not to toot your own horn, pretty fucking convincing.  


  
Unfortunately, due to her raging bouts childhood trauma and having everyone she’s ever loved die, Mikasa isn’t the easiest of people to convince. That being said, you love a good challenge and pride yourself on being a top-tier con woman! There isn’t an elderly citizen in the walls that you can’t con out of their life’s savings only for them to be left to rot in a subpar retirement home whilst their Alzheimer’s eats away at them.  


  
And although Mikasa is the textbook definition of the word 'proletariat', you still believe she's of value and can offer you something infinitely more important than money: _vagina_.  


  
”There wasn’t.”  


  
She reaffirms, lifting her upper body up without so much as a grunt. You swear her muscles make a clanking noise like they’re made out of fucking metal or something. You wouldn’t surprised if this bitch just twisted into a fire truck right now and called herself Optimus Prime.  


  
_Oh my God, who am I kidding? This bitch is a total fucking decepticon._  


  
You glance around the room and notice a finely carved, cream vase placed neatly on a cabinet. It’s got a single flower in it, thick petalled and pale pink. Very pretty. So naturally, you haul your fat ass up and batista bomb that shit to the floor before looking up in Oscar-worthy horror.  


  
“See! Earthquake!” You smile toothily, clenching your cheeks to keep down the little poot of fear collecting in your bumhole because she literally looks like she wants to do a behead you and blame it on ISIS.  


  
Mikasa, as the first Ackerman you have ever simped over, has a special place in your heart. Sure, she’s terrifying, incredibly disturbed and would probably harvest your toes and sell them on the black market if it so much as made Eren _breathe_ happier but she’s also incredibly hot and that matters more than any of her personality traits or personal interests!  


  
Her biceps bulge as she balls her fist up. Wow, even her knuckles are ripped. Her abs have _abs_. Ooh, she’s getting closer now! You lower your eyes, excited to see her toes in all their buff goodness. What the fuck? They’re really buff—it’s genuinely scary. You can name at least ten guys that have smaller dicks than her big toe. Yikes, she’s really close now. She looks sort of angry too. Oh fuck, you’ve made her angry and oh, would you look at that? She’s pinned you to the wall with a hand around around your neck. Lovely.  


  
“This is nice.” You smile at her weakly, feeling your throat have a Trisha Paytas level breakdown.  


  
She’s not the most hospitable of people it seems but then again, you came here with full intention of convincing her to hunch her back and flirt with you in order to make you feel loved by Levi so you can’t say you blame her too much.  


  
Not that she'd do it with all these ugly Eren pride flags hung up. There isn’t a day where you don’t wake up with the intention of invalidating her ‘sexuality’ because being Erensexual is not a fucking _thing_ and she’s probably the only person one Earth who has ever liked him, with exception of the Titan that wined and dined him in Trost.  


  
”Eren gave that to me.”  


  
She grunts like there’s a baboon stuck in her stomach.  


  
You squawk a little in laughter but her hand tightens and cuts you off. Oh, to die whilst getting choked out by the hottest girl you know. This is the best day of your life! Your pussy flaps are practically clapping for you! Your clit is cheering! Your porkhole is asking for an encore!  


  
This is exactly the type of feminism that warms your heart. What better way to stick up to the patriarchy than choke each other out whilst sweaty and in extremely close, borderline homoerotic proximity? If only she’d lean in and kiss you—that’d really show those chauvinistic pigs who really deserves the right to vote!  


  
”Are you dumb? Eren's so poor he can't even afford to _shoplift _." You snort, which is probably a bad idea since you should be sucking air _in_ instead of out.  
__

__

__  
Mikasa, of course, picks up on the fact that you're about half a second away from having an executive meeting with God and squeezes harder.  
_ _

____

  
_I’m half dead from oxygen deprivation and I still won’t stop running my mouth lmaoo...just hold on we’re going homeee..._  


____

  
You truthfully don't understand why your comment on Eren's financial status was so heart-wrenching for her. Just one look at his grimy little face and those stupid little rags he's always wearing is more than enough to let even Hellen Keller know that he hasn't got a pot to piss in.  


____

  
You'll never forget the clownery he pulled on your one month anniversary, which _he_ insisted you celebrate by the way, by gifting that rusty ugly key that he’s keistered up his ass about a million times during Shadis' anti-drug strip searches which you will not elaborate on for legal reasons.  


____

  
However, none of that changes the fact that Eren forced you to give the key back literally three minutes after gifting it to you because his smelly deadbeat dad told him it would help him 'save humanity' before going to buy milk from the store and never coming back. However, all of this fuckery pales in comparison to the fact that as a replacement gift he gave you a jar of his toenails which he grew extra long just for you.  


____

  
The worst thing is you still have them. They make a really nice sound when you shake them. Kind of like ASMR.  


____

  
”Mm,” She hums before letting you go and letting your limp body fall to the floor. “—You’re right I guess. Get out.”  


____

  
You wheeze on the ground, wriggling around mostly so she pays you attention but sadly, your master-plan flops. Mikasa goes back to lifting her weights, only looking mildly irritated by your presence. Luckily for her, you did all your research on Japanese tsunderes before coming here and you're certain that her little look of rage is a sign she's head over heels for you.  


____

  
_Hurray for picture books because I can barely read!_ Your sperm sized brain celebrates. You're proud to say you're at a ten year old's reading level now and sounding out the letters is a thing of past.  


____

  
”I thought I told you to get out.” Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson tells you whilst adjusting her training bra.  


____

  
“Oh come on,” You pick yourself off the ground and fall down onto her bed with a groan. “—You’re always training. Doesn’t it get boring?”  


____

  
Training is undoubtedly the shittiest part of joining the military. Sadly, it’s also a _mandatory_ part of joining the military so you were still made to do it every day and despite your many attempts, forging a parent’s note _doesn’t_ excuse you from sparring practise. Shadis that bastard had a weird knack for recognising your handwriting and as a result, you’ve spent the last four years pulling muscles in places you didn’t know they existed.  


____

  
Explaining to the eighty-year infirmary nurse that you can’t piss in a straight line anymore because you squatted too hard requires a special type of shamelessness. Luckily, you have it but that can’t be said for the rest of your ratty ass comrades. Armin still has dick cramps to this day because he left his schlong pain untreated.  


____

  
“I can’t protect Eren if I’m weak.” She growls and it's so well done that you just _know_ she’s got a wolf fursona. It's the only logical explanation.  


____

  
_Disgusting...the bane of my existence. The reason why God doesn’t talk to us anymore. Since they wanna be animals so bad, how about we take away their human rights?_ You shake in pure horror.  


____

  
The fact that she’s a wolf on all levels except physical makes you a little nauseated but one look at her pretty little face is enough to restore you back to your natural state of horniness. Curses! Why does she have to be so beautiful? Eren’s stupid as hell for dating you when _she’d_ happily be his waifu pillow.  


____

  
”If _you’re_ weak then what the fuck are the rest of us? Put down the weight and cuddle me.” You wrap your arms around her waist and plop your head on her thighs.  


____

  
She pauses, eyes flickering back to the weight and you a few times. Oh hello no, you know exactly what she's thinking! If this bitch bludgeons you, you’ll never forgive her. You paid too much money to get that bump out of your nose and if she breaks it, then she can expect a juicy ass settlement of two whole gold coins. Okay, maybe it's not juicy but she's still way too fucking broke to be able to pay that off--then you get to make her feel poor as well as add to her criminal record. It's genius!  


____

  
_She has no respect for my side profile and it shows._  


____

  
”I’m on my period.” She shuffles, putting the murder weapons down trapping you in between her coochie flaps. 

____

  
Right. 

____

  
That explains the smell then.  


  
”What the hell?” You shriek, opening your eyes with a shit-eating grin that you just know has ruined her entire day. “—Me too! Oh my God, our cycles are synced! It's a sign from the universe!”  


____

  
But before you can go on to explain that your pussies are connected via Bluetooth, Mikasa cuts you off. Presumably because she was raised in a dirty little badger hole with dirty little badger parents that didn't teach her anything about the etiquette and politeness a lady should conduct herself with. Ha, your mother sure did! She even sent you to a special workshop called an ‘orphanage’ so they’d teach you all about them.  


____

  
With a heavy heart and kind communist spirit, you decide to give Mikasa the benefit of the doubt. Her parents were probably planning on getting round to it soon but couldn’t because of their brutal murder. Sad times, you guess.  


____

  
”Then why are you are here? You’re on your period, you can’t have sex anyways—“ She stops herself upon realising who the fuck she’s talking to. “—Ew, period sex? Really?”  


____

  
”It’s not as bad as you think,” You shrug nonchalantly and she shivers in disgust like your dirtiest thing she’s ever encountered. Ha, as if she didn’t spend her childhood playing with roaches in her baths instead of rubber duckies. Poverty will do that for you. “—But I’m not in the mood for that. I just want to cuddle. Cuddle me, Mika, I have cramps.”  


____

  
”No.” She crosses her arms childishly, an irritated scroll on her lips.  


____

  
Why is this bitch always so angry? Who hurt her, aside from those sex traffickers that murdered her parents and the entire Titan population? _Who_? To be fair, you be mad too if you were inclined to spend every waking moment up Eren ass, eating and sleeping and breathing on his prostate, for no reason other than your _genetics_. Like how the fuck are her own neurons gonna play her like that?  


____

  
_Why can’t be she be Ackerbonded to me? Shit, even if she wasn’t she’d probably still pick him. Ugh, maybe men are onto something when they say we shouldn't be allowed to make our own decisions._  


____

  
”Come onnnnnn, don’t you ever get cramps?” You ask her, flipping over and rubbing your stomach. She rolls her eyes, completely unsympathetic in the face of your misery.  


____

  
_Bitch._ You think sourly.  


____

  
”No, my emotional pain is usually enough.” She deadpans, tapping at her temple with a face so blank that it would literally get her institutionalised if anyone other than you saw it.  


____

  
Regardless, you’re still having a lot of fun pestering her even though it feels like you’ve got that freaky baby from Twilight inside of you. The one that tried to eat Bella whilst still in the womb, turned twelve years old in the space of nine months and got a boyfriend before ever even leaving her daddy's nutsack. Yeah. That one.  


____

  
_What the literal fuck was that series supposed to be?_  


____

  
”Mika, you overwork yourself too much. It’s not good for you. Just lay down with me for a while. Let your...cells, I dunno, regenerate or whatever. I’ll be gone in ten minutes,” You grin, baring the excellence of your teeth job. She cocks a brow as though to call you a liar.“—Scouts honour!”  


____

  
”Why the hell are you bothering me? Where’s Ymir and Christa? You’re normally with them, aren’t you?” She asks questions after question like she’s a fucking fed—to which you have to say booooo, fuck the police! They keep trying to bust your ass for tax evasion. Losers.  


____

  
“Oh yeah,” You laugh a little nervously. “—They’re off having lesbian sex. Now that they’ve got their own room, they wanna let out all their sexual repression. Y’know...cuz we all bunked together for four years...so it was hard for them to be physically intimate...”  


____

  
”Yeah, I get the idea, thanks—“ Mikasa nods, brows creasing together in irritation. “—So you thought you’d ruin _my_ day because _your_ friends are busy?”  


____

  
Well that's just plain rude. No wonder Eren can't stand her ass.

____

  
”Hey, we’re friends too!” You pout, pointing up at her face but she only looks down at you like you're the roachiest roach to ever roach. She should really work on her people skills.  


____

  
”No, we’re not.”  


____

  
”...Yeah, you’re right,” You nod in agreement. You’ll be damned if you ever cohort with Mikasa and her band of parentless dweebs ever again. “—But that doesn’t mean we can’t cuddle! Come on, get that stick out your ass and lie down with me. I promise it won't hurt.”  


____

  
She looks down at your face as you lie down in her very firm, disgustingly warm lap. She shoots you a look so dirty and you raise your brows, pop out your eyes and try to look as punchable as possible. You don’t know why. Maybe it’s the masochist in you.  


____

  
She sighs and nods, signalling for you to get up so she can lie down.  


____

  
”Okay.”  


____

  
”Yay!” You clap your hands together excitedly. This is just the bonding opportunity you’ve always wanted with Mikasa. A little...girl time, so to speak.  


____

  
You don’t know all that much about her and it’s kind of a shame. She seems to have a real limited amount of interests aside from following Eren, loving Eren, talking to Eren, talking about Eren, overbearing Eren, pissing Eren off, combing Eren’s hair, triggering Eren’s fight or flight instinct, painting Eren’s toenails, being unhealthily obsessed with Eren. Everything goes back to Eren and his male privilege. If you could just find something else she was interested in—something that’ll get you into her training shorts, you’d eternally grateful.  


____

  
“Come closer, I don’t bite!” You laugh when she plops herself on the other side of the bed.  


____

  
What a dumbass. Why doesn’t she just go and file a restraining order against you while she’s at it? It’s not like it’d be your first.  


____

  
“I know that.” She replies simply, shutting her eyes.  


____

  
You huff, squinting at her pettily. This bitch played you _hard_.You always knew she was inferior Ackerman. In fact, the only reason why you chose to bother her instead of superior Ackerman was because he wanted to sneak off for one of his studio sessions and you can’t be seen out in public with a flop like him, even if he is the love of your life.  


____

  
_Pussy and Gold by Lil Broomstick...that shit just sounds like a train wreck and I don’t even know what the fuck a train is._  


____

  
Shaking away the secondary PTSD you’ve acquired from meeting your midget lover, you focus on Mikasa’s face instead. She’s undoubtedly gorgeous with her smooth porcelain skin and high cheekbones, softly curved eyes—dull with a sleepy sort of serenity. So so pretty and so at peace, she takes your breath away like this.  


____

  
”I thought we were gonna cuddle.”  


____

  
”...In ten minutes you’re out of here so make the most out of your time.” She tells you, eyes still firmly shut.  


____

  
"Ten minutes?" You whine, even though you're the silly bitch that set that time limit.  


____

  
" _Nine_."  


____

  
So pretty. So at peace. So fucking frigid. She's the most pathetic excuse for a waifu pillow you've ever encountered.  


____

  
”You’re shit at this.” Maneuvering her onto her side as quickly as you can, you wrap an arm around her waist and pull her close—spooning her like the little spoon you've always known she is.  


____

  
Mikasa's breath hitches lightly and although you can’t see her face, you know that her eyes are wide open. Her bare stomach tenses under your fingers and for a second, you think she’s going to shit on you in revenge.  


____

  
But instead, after a fragile, hesitant moment, she eases into you and presses her head against your chest. You make a sound of smugness.  


____

  
”Shut up.” She grits out but the words hold no bite. You smile wider, deeper, brighter, smugger than before.  


____

  
_She’s softer than she seems_ , you think to yourself, feeling your eyelids grow heavy. You fall asleep whilst encased in the warmth of each other's arms.  


____

~

____

  
”Mikasa! Mikasa, they’re picking on me again! They’re—[ _Y/N_ ]?”  


____

  
You wake up to the sound of Armin whining like a little bitch which sadly isn’t that much of a surprise. He does this more often than he should.  


____

  
”...What fruitiness did I just walk into? Am I interrupting something?” He asks, giving you both a cock-eyed look of confusion.  


____

  
One day, you swear you’re going to wake up and find that Armin was just a social experiment from Harvard university like that Timmy Thicc Guy. There’s no way someone as big brained as him could be so fucking stupid at the same time. As a result, you’ve concluded that he’s man-made.  


____

  
”Not at all.” You groan and Mikasa stirs from next to you, picking herself up next to you.  


____

  
”What is it, Armin? Is Eren okay?” She tries to rub at her eyes but ends up clobbering herself instead. Looking down, you realise that her fingers are tightly intertwined with your own. Must’ve happened whilst you were sleeping.  


____

  
Mikasa, on the other hand, isn’t as cool about it. Whilst you’re laughing about how your hands look like a fat tarantula together, she's grumbling angrily under her breath in broken Japanrese, scratching at her puffy little eye. You hope it bruises purely just to watch her squirm in discomfort when people ask why the hell it looks like Stevie Wonder did a smoky eye on her.  


____

  
”Don’t touch me, dumbass.” She gives you a sharp look and funnily enough, your intestines start lurching. Oooh, you hope she has en suite in here otherwise you might have to shit on her carpet.  


____

  
You kind of _want_ to shit on her carpet.  


____

  
“No!” Hitler's number one fanboy rolls his eyes, "—You're such a b-word, Mikasa! Eren has nothing to do with this! I just told you, the other scout's are picking on me and-"  


____

  
"And that sounds like a _you_ problem. Get out, pussy, I'm trying to sleep." She falls back into bed, shrouding herself in the covers like a deranged gollum.  


____

  
You look at Armin and spin your index finger next to your temple but he only nods knowingly, as if he needs anyone to tell him the bitch is insane.  


____

  
Normally, ignoring Armin's emotional pain is rather enjoyable to you and you've even considered taking it up as hobby but you get the feeling that he's not going to shut the fuck _up_ once he starts.  


____

  
Therefore, today you are willing to give a small amount of your time to him in return for a favour that he doesn't know you're going to ask of him yet. Even you're not sure of what it is yet but you have a hunch that it'll probably be incredibly dangerous and will most likely hospitalise him.  


  
Oh well, trauma and physical disabilities build character.  


____

  
"She...I want to say she doesn't mean that but she probably she does. What's your problem? It's cool, you can tell me." You scratch at your neck awkwardly. How do you always get dragged into this shit?  


____

  
You're like the Jeffree Star of the AOT fanfic universe—popping up in every mildly dramatic event to ever happen—even when it has fuck all to do with you! Well, at least you can proudly say that you’re not a raging racist, a capitalist bottom and actually _have_ a pair of eyebrows.  


____

  
_All I wanted was to be hugged...fucking hugged!_  


____

  
"Well," He begins, clutching his hands together. Ugh this is gonna be a long one, isn’t it?  


____

"—The other scouts called me over and said they wanted to apologise for being so mean to me. I remembered that thing Bert said about 'turning the other cheek' and thought that it would be a good idea, you know? Have a fresh start and all!“  


____

  
"Oh my God, if you take anything Bert says seriously then you deserve to suffer—"  


____

  
" _Anyways _," He cuts in, not in the mood to listen to your commentary. You don't see why, you're hilarious. "—Everything was going so well! We were talking and joking and then all of a sudden t-they told me...they told me to...”  
__

____

____

____

  
Wow. Just when you thought this grown ass, twenty year old military graduate couldn't get any lamer. He needs to locked up, purely on the basis of being the most pissy, puny, pathetic prick in manga, animated and fanfiction history. It's a trilogy, a trilogy of lameless, and he's the star of all three. You can't believe you ever wasted your time kissing him on that camping trip and you can't believe that you'd do it again. You wonder why God gave you this mental illness.  


____

____

____

  
"Still here, pussy?" Mikasa grumbles. You poke her scoldingly and surprisingly she corrects herself. "—I mean Armin?'  


____

____

____

  
Why he even associates with her evil ass is truly a mystery. You can’t tell whether it was desperation or a lack of self respect that made him walk this door. All you know is, Armin needs to branch out and meet new people because his current friendship group is a flaming pile of garbage.  


____

____

____

  
”There there,” You pat him on the shoulder and he sniffles. God, he’s disgusting. “—Let it out.”  


____

____

____

  
He kind of reminds you of Sarah Paulson, probably because she made a career out of crying her way through every AHS season—just like how Armin can’t even tell you the time without bursting into tears and telling you how much he misses his grandpappy. The only difference is, Sarah Paulson is less of a lesbian and has genuine talent instead of this blond sack of depression next to you.  


  
“They told me to spell out...ICUP...and I actually did it! I’m such a fool! They played me like a fiddle.” He hiccups and you nod because damn they really did.  


  
" _Gee wilikers _! I can't believe they'd do that to you...what'd they make you do again?" You ask, feigning dementia for your own amusement.  
__

____

  
"Spell ICUP! God, are you two deaf or something? They made me spell ICUP and now everyone's calling me a pervert with a piss kink," He frowns and honestly, he looked less sad when Eren died back in Trost. "It's really upsetting.”  


  
"Oh. That's terrible, Armin but...why would that make you a _perv_? I don't get it." You shake your head, pouting innocently.  


____

  
Not that Armin can see because he’s weeping like a little bitch. Ugh, you miss the days when men were too scared to show their emotions in fear of being called gay.  


  
"...Because...y'know...when you spell it out..."  


____

  
"I literally can’t read a book if it doesn’t have pictures, you’re gonna need to help me out here.”  


____

  
"Fricking heck," He sighs, brushing a hand through his hair. " ' I...C...U... P' " He spells the word out slowly and you can't but feel that you're reopening some old wounds here.  


  
It still won’t stop you from clowning him, though. After all, quitters never win!  


  
" _"You see me pee_?" Jerking back in horror, you throw him a look that should only be reserved for sex offenders and the Vatican. Eh, they’re kind of the same thing.  


  
" _NO!"_ He squeals like a little piggie. Wow, he has a great falsetto that note was at least an E6.  


  
"—Okay, yeah, but it was an accident! I swear it! I just needed to pee pee so I was looking for a good pee pee bush but when I had found it you were already pee peeing in it but it was dark and I didn’t see all that much...maybe like seventy-five percent—" This time you don't have to fake your horror.  


  
As much as you try to repress that camping trip down into the asscrack of your subconcious, it always finds a way to squeeze itself out. The fact that you kissed him, somehow flashed your genitals to him and still got no dick that night is legitimate proof that God hates you.  


____

  
"Oh put a fucking sock in it, will you?" You roll your eyes.  


  
Everyone knows your salami strips are free real estate so whether he's had an eyeful of them doesn't affect you as much as it should.  


____

  
You think you've drawn this out enough. It’s not even fun anymore.

__  
_ _

  
"Mikasa, get up. He wants you to murder his bullies." You poke her again in the ass and lifts her head out of the blankets to give you a half-hearted dirty look but it doesn't really work since she's been your little spoon for the last three hours.  
  


  
”I don’t know about murder, maybe a quiet reprimand—“  


  
"I'm busy." She cuts in, cool as the suspiciously wet cucumber Sasha keeps in her underwear draw.  


____

  
"Yeah you really look it," You roll your eyes, before squeezing Armin's cheek in consolation because he looks like he's going to drop dead from mortification any moment now. "—Come on, Mika, isn't he your friend? Help him out."  


____

  
She gives Armin a long and careful look.  


____

  
"...How do you want me to answer that? Truthfully or...?"  


  
And to think, these are the same people who called you a sociopath who doesn't have the emotional capacity to love. You should’ve just gone to the studio with Levi. Maybe he would’ve let you do some backing vocals or called his bitch in one of songs or something.  


  
"Uh...you know what? Don't answer at all." You shake your head in such disgust that you think you might’ve given yourself whiplash.  


  
You wanna chalk her lack of care up to the childhood trauma but, honestly, it seems like this is just her shitty ass personality.  


  
Looking back at Armin’s teary, buggy mosquito eyes and quivering little mouth—you can’t help but feel bad for him. He’s a good guy, when you look past the suspiciously Nazi-like genetics and annoyingly low self-esteem. It kind of pisses you off that people are taking advantage of him like this only a week into his enlistment.  


  
”Mikasa, I’d go myself but I ranked #1999 when we graduated. I don’t think anyone would take me seriously compared to you.” You try to reason with her monogamous ass but as expected, it flops.  


  
”Awesome.” She says, not sounding even a little bit interested.  


  
“Mikasa, I know I’m more of Eren’s friend than yours but, please, I need your help. You’re the strongest person I know. It’s awful, being treated like this. Every where I go, people walk all over me. I just want to be treated like a _person_ , for once.”  


  
Wonderful. Now he’s started up his daily pity party and it seems you’ve got a fat juicy invite with your name on it. All you wanted was a fluffy, lesbian fanfiction moment but instead you’re stuck here, listening to flat chested Hanna Baker boo hoo about all his life’s problems.  


  
_Once he starts he won’t stop. He’s like a nympho...but for depression._  


  
” _Mikasa_!” You groan desperately because Armin’s voice is lowkey more feminine than yours and that doesn’t do much for your self confidence. “—If you go defend Armin then I’ll...I’ll tell you how Eren likes his dick sucked!”  


  
Everyone freezes, although Armin probably for different reasons.  


  
(Reiner convinced him that swearing is illegal so he most likely thinks the cops are gonna burst in and raid the room any moment now.)  


  
”Well, why didn’t you just say so?” Mikasa aka the only person to ever outsimp you smiles so wide that you get a peak of the spinach she ate yesterday stuck at the back of her teeth.  


  
”—As if I’d ever let anything happen to you, bestie! You just tell me who picked on you and I’ll sort them out good and proper. No one messes you with and lives to tell the tale!”  


  
She bounces up so quickly that she’s almost a blur, grabbing you and Armin by the hands and dragging you through the door with her man strength.  


  
”Oh my God, Mikasa, I think I just broke something! This is extremely inappropriate too! I’m not enjoying the dom slash sub undertones here—“ Armin yodels as he slides up against the floor.  


  
Looking up from the corner of your eye, you notice it looks somewhat cleaner than before.  


  
You take your dragging like a man, all silent and misogynistic. Mikasa is the reason why women need to stay in kitchen. They’re too much of hazard to be anywhere else.  


  
However, as she flings you around like an old booger you can’t help but feel proud of her. The power of dick truly unites all.  


~

  
”Don’t worry, Armin, Mika and I’ll protect you. Just point out the bully.” You gesture to the group of grown ass adults who should be paying their taxes, or feeding their kids or literally doing anything other than picking on Armin because that’s _your_ job!  


  
“Uhhhh....” Armin scans the crowd, squinting harshly. “—That’s the one.”  


  
” _Hange_?” You screech, slapping your hands against your cheeks like the home alone kid. “—Mikasa, protect me!”  


  
Mikasa turns and gives you a silently disgusted look. Yeah, you get it. You’re pathetic. She tells you it at least once everyday through pure telepathy so you don’t think you’ll be forgetting it any time soon.  


  
”No, not her!” Armin corrects. What a fucking know-it-all. “—The guy next to her!”  


  
And when you realise who it is, you have do physically stop yourself from taking out your emergency toothbrush shank and committing a homocide.  


  
”Floch?” You grit, looking increasingly feral. “—He’s the one running his mouth? With _his_ three inches?”  


  
Mikasa grimaces because the realisation that men other than Eren have dicks has probably just dawned upon her. She gives you a quizzical look.  


  
”... Are you serious? Is he actually three inches?” She asks, tightening her scarf to the point where you wonder how she’s even breathing.  


  
You give her a solemn look and clasp your hands together.  


  
”Three inches... _erect_.” You try not to tear up. Fucking—or attempting to fuck—Floch was the worst experience of your life.  


  
Pro tip: just because someone’s name rhymes with the word ‘cock’, does not mean they’ll actually have big one.  


  
“That’s just sad.” She snorts from behind her scarf, although her face looks miserable as ever.  


  
”I know, even I’m bigger than that!” Armin chimes in with a enthusiastic smile.  


  
You and Mikasa share a look of pure misandrist disgust because who the hell was even talking to him in the first place? Personally, you had forgotten that he was even here so to hear his voice is quite the shock.  


  
”We know, Armin,” you pat his head tenderly. “—If only you knew how do anything other than _piss_ with it...”  


  
Whilst you lament the fact that Armin is thinks kissing constitutes as booty sex, Mikasa drags him forward and advances towards Floch. It’s sort of funny. They look like a fucking homeless couple asking for change and when you think about it—they really are.  


  
You watch from the sidelines because you feel like you’ve been fairly unproblematic today. Also, Hange’s right there answer you don’t feel like being executed by her cartel via chainsaw anytime soon.  


  
”Hey shrimpy...so like what have you been saying to Armin?” She asks, still sounding tired from the nap you took together. You don’t blame her, it was a really good nap.  


  
Armin scratches his head awkwardly, probably wishing he asked his little gestapo friends for help instead.  


  
”You could sound a bit more passionate about this...” He murmurs, turning back and giving you an embarrassed look. You shoot him a thumbs up with one hand and light up spliff with the other.  


  
”Are you talking to me?” Floch asks, his stupid flochy hair flopping about. Ew.  


  
The only reason why you were willing to give him a few of your pussy crumbs was because his hair was unstyled that day but you’ll never understand why he insists on wearing his hair like it’s his second ballsack. You chalk it up to male stupidity and him just being kind of clapped.  


  
”No other shrimp dicks around here,” she blinks cooly, looking around him. If this army shit doesn’t work out then she’d be a great loan shark. She’d have you shitting coins on the spot. “—So, you tried to say that Armin watches people pee?”  


  
Floch gives her a confused look, wrinkling his nose which funnily enough is considerably larger than his penis.  


  
”What’s this? You got reinforcements now, Armin?” He asks, a stupid smile on his equally stupid face. “—Should I be scared? Ooh, I’m terrified really—  


  
Here he goes again, flapping those obese gums of his. You can’t say you’re too surprised when Mikasa roundhouse kicks him in the bladder and he falls to the floor, crying like a little bitch baby worm.  


  
If Hange wasn’t lurking around, you jump in and stomp on his back just for fun. You’ll never forgive him for leading you on with sexts through pigeon post. His letters were the freakiest shit ever, so freaky in fact, that once Shadis intercepted the post and literally called the cops because he thought someone was sending you _death threats_.  


  
After a long conversation in which you discussed the meaning of bukkake, Shadis called you a disgrace and permitted you to continue your abuse of written language. It was kind of fun, for a while, getting letters about how he’d squeeze your titties like whoopee cushions underneath the gas bill. A little adventure, so to speak.  


  
And then you met up.  


  
Big fucking failure that was. That single dick appointment taught you importance of social distancing. It went well for the most part—until he got undressed that you realised just what kind of a trap you’d be lured into...a catfishing. But with cock. A cockfishing.  


  
In the end, you told him put his boxers back up and call you when he’s grown a few inches. Judging from the fact that he’s never contacted you again, it’s safe to assume he’s still as microscopic as ever.  


  
”Oh look, Armin,” Mikasa points at the suspiciously wet trail dripping down Floch’s ratty asscrack. “—Now you really are seeing him pee. Come on. We’re done here. Let’s go.”  


  
She grips him by the arm and tries to wander off, now that her good work is completed but Armin refuses to budge—watching Floch give himself a golden shower with the strangest expression.  


  
If you didn’t know any better...you’d say he looks turned on.  


  
”No no. We’re not done,” Armin shakes his head before leaning down, looking particularly mentally unhinged. “—Your implications have become a reality. I am seeing you and I am watching you and I will _never_ stop. Every moment of humiliation you experience will not go unseen. I will haunt you, like a spectre, and drive you to madness. I will rip your heart out and eat it, I will drink your blood and savour its taste, I will—“  


  
”Uh, Armin?” Mikasa asks, a little freaked out at the fatass smile on his face and the fucking _foot_ he’s balancing on Floch’s stomach. Why doesn’t he just go and do the stanky leg while he’s at it?  


  
”—Just know, lil dicky, that every tongue that rises again Armin Arlert will _fall_.” He hisses and Floch groans, probably in an attempt to get someone to help him but no one does because he’s not worth dying over.  


  
Mikasa rolls her eyes and grips him from the arms, dragging him away from the crime scene in the least inconspicuous way fucking ever. You’re all gonna go to court for this and when you do you’re blaming it all on _them_! Who’s gonna stop you? Not their parents, that’s for sure.  


  
”Shut up, I’ve got a blowjob tutorial waiting for me and you’re holding me up with your psychotic ranting. No wonder they like to kick your ass so much.” She pulls out some hand sanitiser and wipes the non-Eren germs from her hands before meeting you by the burning bush you’re vibing in.  


  
”What the fuck was that? Army, you need to be put on a lot of medication.” Is the first thing you greet them with, putting out your blunt against some poor defenceless plant.  


  
_Go on...photosynthesise now! I dare you._  


  
”Yeah, I know.” Armin frowns at your swollen, red eyes and toothy grin. “—I’m too scared to go to the doctor’s by myself though.”  


  
In this capitalist hellhole, you’re surprised he can even afford healthcare. Good for him.  


  
”You think the doctor’s bad? Try getting an abortion behind McDonald’s and looking up to see the cashier, that served you literally half an hour ago, come out for a fucking smoke break. That shit gave me goosebumps...” You mumble, rubbing at your eyes tiredly.  


  
At least he gave you cigarette when you asked but you’ll never forget the grossed out stare he gave you. You’re not even allowed within a ten mile radius of that branch anymore or else you’ll get locked up. Whatever, it’s just more proof that government is made up of a bunch of pro-lifers weirdos.  


  
”Right,” Mikasa gives you a disgusted look. What? Has she never had an abortion before? “—Armin, we’ve done our community service so we’re off now. [Y/N], I believe it’s time for _my_ payment.”  


She grabs you by the shoulders and marches you away from Armin, who really doesn’t want to be alone in case Floch’s changed his pants and wants to get his revenge.  


  
”Please, Mikasa! I heard he’s really quick at showering. His shirt would be at least half-way on by now!” He pleads, as if Mikasa hasn’t put in enough damage to put him in a wheelchair for a month.  


  
“Deal with it, pussy!” She calls from behind her shoulder before turning back to you. “—Now tell me. Tell me what you know. Everything, anything. Don’t leave a single thing out.”  


  
Wow. She’s such a fucking loser.  


  
“...Ah, my little protegè. Don’t worry, you’ll be the best dick suck in town as long you follow my lead!”  



End file.
